Averi's Copy
by The Author's Mighty Pen
Summary: At the end of his life John Bates flicks through a box of discount books and finds one with a child's scrawl in the inside cover reading, "This is Averi Smith's Copy, please return" followed by an address. Reading it changes his life to the point where he decides to take up her cause as his own. A cause that leads him to someone else. Someone named Anna Smith.
1. Prologue: To the End of Time Itself

Sixty Years Ago

He waited for her, checking his watch repeatedly. They planned it to the minute but, as many said, "make plans with your life and watch God laugh". He never believed much in God, no matter how many masses his mother insisted they attend, but Anna did.

Anna. He could have sighed thinking about her. But that was what why he risked it all. She was why he would risk it all.

Checking his watch again he started at a sound from the bushes. One hand gripped the head of his cane more firmly and the other prepared to swing the suitcase with all his might. But he dropped his shoulders in relief when a blonde woman worked her way toward him.

"I thought they might've caught you." He handed over a coat and she slipped her arms through the sleeves before shaking her head.

"No. The Matron thinks I'm troublesome but she and the student nurses never check if I swallow the pills."

He stopped her, putting a gentle hand on her cheek. "It's all over now Anna. We never have to think about this place again."

"I know." She put her hand over his, smiling at him. "We get to start over John. Just you and I together."

"Just us." He nodded and offered her his arm. "We'd best get moving. The bus comes soon and I want us on it before anyone decides to take their rounds of the wards before they're scheduled to."

"Those few endeavoring student nurses since none of the Matrons care enough to do it."

"Whomever does it," John tightened his grip over her fingers as she freed his hand of the suitcase. "I want them confused as to where you'd go."

"As long as it's with you, I'll go anywhere."

John grinned at her, "For now, home."

"That sounds wonderful."

They hurried to the bus stop, holding one another close in the dark. Under the glow of the single street lamp John wrapped a hand around Anna's waist, kissing the top of her head. The bus stopped before them, brakes releasing with a gust of air, and John let Anna on first. He followed, paying their fare, and took the seat beside her. Their fingers intertwined on the seat between them as Anna rested her head on John's shoulder.

"It's alright." He soothed, "Sleep now and when you wake up we'll be far away from here."

Anna sighed, "Thank you John."

"It's my pleasure." He looked down as she turned her head toward him, "I'd do anything for you Anna. I love you."

"And I love you too." She risked a quick kiss before pulling back. "However, whenever, wherever."

"However, whenever, wherever." John agreed, "To the end of time itself."


	2. Traditions

Present Day

He was never one to forsake tradition. Even on a day like today he refused to give up his habit. It would be the last time and one should never leave it off on the last. What would that say about dedication?

Entering the bookshop he smiled at the woman behind the counter and shoved his hands into his pockets. Nothing hurried his gait as he investigated the aisles, pulling a book partway off the shelf to check a title before carefully slipping it back in place. A cart, with a bright yellow sign reading 'half off or more' dangling above it, beckoned from the corner and he made his way toward it.

His fingers brushed over cloth covers, caught on the shinier waxed ones, and caught in the ripping binding of one. He extricated it from the rest and his eyebrows rose at the sight of it. Flipping open the cover he snorted a laugh to himself at the child's scrawl on the inside.

"This is Averi Smith's Copy, please return as soon as possible."

He noted the address, written in uneven but dedicated letters, and turned the pages. Inside, covering the famous Seussian illustrations, John noted writing. It followed the bends and curves of some of the pictures while other notes wrote over without regard to the artwork.

Flipping through the pages he continued to the end and noted the handwriting evolved. There, in a clearer but still determined hand, someone wrote. "Please return this to my sister. She'll need it when I'm gone."

He closed the book and tapped on the cover a moment before walking to the counter. The woman there smiled and held her hand out for the book. Handing it over he dug into his back pocket for his wallet and opened it to look for the right change.

"Getting something special for your own little ones?" The woman asked and he raised his head, fingers gripping the card with his name on it.

"No, not as such." He handed the card over and the woman ran it, gasping when she saw the name.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Bates." Her mouth open and closed in a hurry, as if searching for something of substance to say. "I didn't realize-"

"It's fine." Mr. Bates took the book and his card back. "Happens all the time."

"But the comment about children I…" Her hand flailed toward the book. "I assumed, since you bought a children's book… I'm so sorry."

"It's truly not a problem." He soothed, "And I can understand why anyone would think so. It is a children's book."

He was almost out of the shop when the woman called back to him, "I think you deserved better than what she did to you in the divorce."

"Me too." He sighed, pushing onto the street. "But it's all going to be over soon anyway so it won't matter."

His feet carried him on the familiar path to a small coffee shop and he took a table near the back window. The server brought him his order and Mr. Bates smiled at her before opening the book again. He flipped to the first page and started reading the notes and dialogue recorded between the story Dr. Seuss left there.

By the time he reached the back cover he closed the book, wiping at his eyes with a napkin as someone took the seat opposite him. Mr. Bates looked up, trying to smile at the ginger-headed woman who sat there. "Penny for your thoughts Mr. Bates?"

"There're not worth that Mrs. Patmore." Mr. Bates sniffed, shaking his head.

"Anything that makes a man cry over his coffee is worth it to me." She offered him another napkin. "You came in here looking rather downcast, if I may say."

"You may."

"I do hope that horrible woman you're finally free of isn't the reason you were feeling so downcast."

"It was, in a way." Mr. Bates tapped the cover of the book, "But this might've made a difference."

"It's a good book. I've always enjoyed _Oh, the Places You'll Go_. One of my favorites." Mrs. Patmore stood, "I do hope you've enjoyed the book and the coffee."

"It's made my day all the brighter, Mrs. Patmore." He nodded at the coffee, "How much for it?"

"It's on the house, Mr. Bates." Mrs. Patmore smiled at him, "If it made your day brighter than that's payment enough for me."

Mr. Bates finished his coffee and grabbed up the book to leave the shop. He walked to Tower Bridge and entered the base of one of the turrets, taking the steps to the top. Holding the book tight in his grip he stepped to the fencing and stared down at the water far below.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and leaned on the railing. The book pressed into him and he stopped. Laying it on the railing the cover flipped back to show him the first page, the address written there practically glaring at him. The pages snapped in the wind, fluttering until they showed him the back cover again.

Tucking the book away, Mr. Bates nodded to himself. "Alright, I'll return it to your sister before I go. She can use it when I'm gone too."

* * *

Three Days Later

He knocked on the door, expelling all the air from his lungs as he shuffled on the stoop. The small garden with the gate painted a lovely shade of lavender gave him a smile. And he almost tripped when the door opened and a blonde woman stood there.

"Yes?"

"Are you Averi Smith's sister?"

The woman's blue eyes took on finer definition when they widened, "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry, let me start again." He cleared his throat, "I'm John Bates and I found this book in a secondhand bookshop three days ago."

He handed her the book, noting how her hands trembled when she touched it before covering her mouth when her eyes welled with tears. "There was an address in the front and I went there but the tenants said you'd moved a long time ago. It took me longer than expected but I eventually tracked you to this address and thought I should give you the book in person, since it seemed to mean a lot to your sister."

"How'd you know that?" She choked a moment, wiping at her streaming eyes, fingers tracing the cover.

"It said, in the back that it'd help you when she was gone." John cleared his throat, "I don't know how long she's been gone but I'd like to give my condolences all the same."

"Seventeen years." She swallowed, trying to blink away her tears. "She's been gone seventeen years."

"I'm so sorry for your loss." John pointed to the book, "She seems like a wonderful person and I wish I could've met her."

"Why?"

"Well I read it, what she wrote in there." John shrugged, "She had a lot of great dreams and… Well it helped me get over a low point."

"If you don't mind me asking a very personal question," She adjusted the book in her hands, "What low point?"

"Three days ago I was going to commit suicide by tossing myself from one of the turrets on Tower Bridge." John gestured to the book, "But because of that book I didn't."

"Because you read it?"

"Partly. Then there was tracking down the address and finding you so I could give it back." John smiled, "It got me curious in life again and I wanted to thank her if I could, in whatever way I could, for helping me get over myself."

"I'm sorry you couldn't tell her yourself." The woman smiled, "She would've been made up about helping you."

"She seemed like the type." John clapped his hands together, "Well, I've taken up enough of your time already and I should get going. I hope you've a lovely day."

He turned leave, even reached the garden gate, when the woman called after him. "Mr. Bates, would you like to come in a have a cup of tea?"

"I shouldn't take the rest of your afternoon."

"Please," She had her fingers over the book, patting the air above it a moment when she met his eyes. "This means the world to me and I'd like to talk about my sister with someone who knows her. It's been a long time since I could do that and I'd like to. If you'd be willing to."

"I'd love to learn more about the girl who saved my life." John stepped back to the stoop, "But I'd need your name first since it'd be rude of me to just call you 'Averi's Sister'."

"I don't know, I haven't been that in a long time and it'd be nice to hear it again." The woman held out her hand, "But I'm Anna. Anna Smith."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Anna." John paused, "And it'll be a pleasure to get to know Averi better too."

"Then come inside and we'll talk about her over our favorite tea."


	3. Books

John held the tea in his hand as Anna took her seat in the chair across from the sofa. "So you live here alone?"

"Ever since my boyfriend moved out."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not." She sipped, "Good riddance to bad rubbish."

"That bad?"

"Cheated on me."

"Bastard."

"Twice." Anna held up her fingers before shaking her head, "I thought I was being good by forgiving the first time but the second time…"

"Kicked his deserving ass to the curb?"

"Just so." Anna set her cup down, "But we're not here to talk about me. We're here to talk about Averi."

"Yes," John set his tea to the side, "She loved that book."

"It wasn't anything significant to her until she got sick." Anna ran a finger over the cover, "Then it was all she wanted to read. She'd use it almost like a journal and write all of her dream destinations and holidays in here."

"I loved reading about wanting to be the first to colonize Mars."

"She loved science." Anna laughed, "She's actually part of the reason why I studied what I did at Uni."

"Travel guide?"

"No," Anna smiled, "I'm a pediatric physician at the hospital."

"That's incredible." John shook his head, "I was always rubbish with science at school. No head for chemistry and I only scraped Biology because of anatomy."

Anna grinned, looking him over. "I'll bet you were pretty hands on with that kind of thing in your younger years."

John shrugged, "Part and parcel of growing up."

"When you look like a lady-killer I'm sure."

"I held my own." John sat back in his chair, "I'll bet you broke a few hearts yourself."

"Not as many as my friends said I could've but I spent a lot of time at the library so the kind of guy I attracted would've freaked about seeing themselves naked, much more seeing a girl naked." Anna tapped her nail over the cover, "There was one guy, when I was two years in, who spent the whole term working up the nerve just to ask me for my last name."

"I think his heart would've stopped if you'd dared hold his hand."

"Might've." Anna brushed her hair to the side, sobering. "Averi always wanted to chase boys."

"How old was she, when she died?"

"Thirteen." Anna sighed, "She would've been thirty this year. Probably had a few kids and a husband by now."

"Maybe she would've traveled the world instead." John snorted, "From experience I can tell you, husband'd just hold her back."

"Depends on the kind of man she married."

"My wife always said I held her back."

"I didn't know you were married."

"Because I'm not, anymore."

"I'm sorry," Anna cringed, "Guess I walked right into that."

"Not really since there's nothing to walk in on and it's a good thing." John interlaced his fingers, "Or, it is now."

"Was it not before?"

"Well," John shifted in his chair, "Like I said on your stoop, I found your sister's book when I was contemplating suicide so I guess you could say I was broken."

"That intrigues me." Anna tucked her legs under her, "That you went to the trouble of buying a book on your way to commit suicide."

"It's not normal is it?"

"Not in my experience but I'm not a therapist or a psychologist."

"None of the kids you work with think about it?"

Anna shook her head, "I don't work with anyone over the age of twelve and the ones I treat are usually dying anyway."

"Like your sister?"

She nodded, "Must seem very morbid."

"You're talking to a man who planned how to jump to his death a week ago and almost did." John reached to take another sip of his tea, "Not sure I'm the one to ask about where morbid thoughts might take you."

"I guess we're both chained to some things in our past." Anna sighed, "I never really got over Averi's death."

"Hence your profession."

"Yeah," Her fingers ran over the edge of her cup but she did not drink out of it. "But it was more than that. I lost my sister and my best friend."

"How old were you?"

"Nine," Anna finally managed a sip before resting it on the table next to her and tucking her hands under her arms to fold across her chest. "It was the perfect gap because when my parents told Averi she'd be a big sister she was so excited about a baby in the house and introduced me to everyone as hers."

"Must've made your parents happy."

"It did until she wanted to take me to school like her doll." Anna snorted, "She got me into her school bag and almost out the door before my mother realized why she was struggling to lift the bag."

"And you stayed close?"

"Yeah." Anna looked to the corner a moment, "We never had time to really steal one another's clothes or fight over a car or schedules because by the time she was old enough to even think about boys she was losing her hair to aggressive chemotherapy and eating through a tube because she couldn't hold anything down."

"How'd your parents take it?"

"Like troopers but I'd hear Mum crying at night and sometimes just see Dad pacing his way around the garden until we had a track there."

"That must've been a blow to them." John sniffed, "I'm an only child but I buried my mother last year and it was the worst thing I think I've ever felt."

"As the saying goes, 'there's no word for the pain of losing a child'." Anna wiped at her eyes with a sleeve, "But we all mourned together until last year."

"I hope I'm not prying if I ask what happened last year."

"My parents died." Anna took a breath, "Dad had a heart attack on the road and the car swerved. Mum couldn't get control of it and they hit a tree."

"I'm so sorry, that's horrible."

"It's a different kind of horrible, if that makes sense." Anna tapped her hand to her chest, "It's different to watch your parents go because they've seen you grow and succeed and they've known happiness. So its more bittersweet than sour."

"Like losing Averi?" Anna nodded, "Losing someone with untapped potential is the worst pain I can imagine."

"And yet you work with terminal child patients everyday."

"It helps, when comforting the family, if you can tell them you actually do know how they feel." Anna shrugged, "Though you wish that no one had to endure the pain you do."

"There's no way to treat all the pains the body suffers."

"Like you, trying to treat temporary problems with a permanent solution?" Anna stopped, "I'm sorry, that was judgmental and I don't know what happened. Forgive me I spoke out of turn."

"You actually hit the nail on the head." John managed a half smile, "I thought I'd nothing left to live for and I realized I was wrong."

"Because you walked into a bookshop, read a book, and then decided not to die?"

"Because I promised a girl I'd never met I'd return a book to her sister and I found purpose in living a life I thought I'd lost." John took a deep breath, "My ex-wife cheated on me and then took everything I had."

"How'd she wrangle that?"

"She'd got into bondage with her new boyfriend and they staged some photos to make it look like I beat her in our marriage."

"Bitch."

"Agreed." John held up his hands, "I never did, in case you're wondering."

"I don't think you would've admitted it to me if you had." Anna frowned, "I've treated enough children in the A&E, when I run shifts there, who come in with stories about how they broke their bones I know aren't true. People who're abusive can't admit it to others because they won't admit it to themselves."

"My ex-wife was that way." John chewed the inside of his cheek, "But who's going to believe an ex-Army officer defended himself against his wife?"

"No one, I'm afraid."

John nodded, "So she got everything and left me with a tiny flat."

"Is she taking some of your money too?"

"She couldn't justify alimony once she married her boyfriend so thankfully no." John snorted, "Not like there was much money for her to take."

"You work a shit job?"

"It's definitely not pediatrics."

"We suffer for the paycheck in terms of the hours we work." Anna smiled, "What do you do, Mr. Bates?"

"I'm a journalist."

"How exciting." Anna leaned forward, "Seen any amazing places?"

"I once went to Gibraltar on holiday."

She waved a hand at him, "You're no fun."

"So all my friends told me." John laughed with her, "But no, I mostly do political pieces."

"Hold on a minute," Anna snapped her fingers, "I knew you looked familiar. You did that expose on that minister they found was diverting the funds for a second home in Brighton."

"Yeah." John shook his head, "I think the part that disappointed me most about that story was that he chose Brighton."

"There're good things in Brighton."

"It's not as good as Ireland." John raised his hand, "I swear on the Emerald Isle of my ancestors I would've buried the story if he'd had a lick of sense about holiday destination."

"I'm sure you're just biased."

"Aren't we all?"

Anna winced, "I can't say that I'd advocate for anyone to move to the Yorkshire moors unless they want that kind of seclusion."

"Some people like it. They write mournful books about it or poetry."

"Please," Anna frowned, "There's nothing good about creating a culture that says Heathcliffe is anything but a revenge-seeking bully."

"But it shaped a generation."

"More's the pity." Anna sighed, "So, in your hours as a journalist, is that what helped you super sleuth your way to my door?"

"It helped with the research." John pointed at the book, "I had your first address and a last name for the family. Then it's just a matter of getting permissions and digging through council records until I finally found a forwarding address."

"And then you show up on my doorstep."

"I thought it better than sending the book in the post."

"Much better." Anna held the book close to her, "I thought this was gone forever."

"Could I ask how it got into a secondhand book shop in London?"

"I only know the beginning of that story." Anna situated herself on the chair, "My parents accidently added it to the donation bin when they cleaned out Averi's room a few months after she passed."

"And you didn't tell them otherwise?"

"I couldn't bear to go in there." Anna shook her head, "It was like walking into another world and I didn't want to remember Averi by all the things she left behind in that room. I didn't want the memories of what we'd never get to do."

"That must've been hard."

"You don't have siblings so I guess the only comparison I have is for when your friend in primary school moves away and you remember how you made plans to be inseparable until the world reminded you that you're not." Anna fiddled with the sleeve of her jumper, "Only a thousand times worse."

"But they chucked the book?"

"They didn't know why it was significant."

"Could I ask what made it significant?"

Anna paused, setting the book to the side, "It's better I show you."

She stood, walking to a bookcase and John hurried to join her. Anna pointed to a book on the shelf, just as worn and tattered as Averi's book, and she smiled. "That was mine."

"Same book?"

"Exact same."

"May I?" Anna nodded and John drew the book out. As he did an envelope fell from between the pages and he stooped to grab it. "Sorry, this fell out."

"That's not mine." Anna took the envelope, turning it over in her hands. "It's addressed to Averi."

"Did you two look alike?"

"Not very." Anna slipped her finger under the top and it flipped out, the sealant aged away. "But we did trade our books back and forth."

"The changes in handwriting?"

Anna grinned, "We were trying to write in code but it never quite worked and I don't remember the key anymore anyway."

John flipped through the book as Anna pulled out the sheet of paper inside and scoffed. He looked over, "What?"

"It's written in the most elaborate cursive I think I've ever seen."

"May I?" John held out a hand, trading Anna the book for the letter. "I'm a bit of an expert in reading these."

"Study it in school did you?"

"I've done a few historical pieces that had me buried in archives so you get good at finding information." John read over it, "It's addressed to your sister from someone named Violet Crawley."

"Violet Crawley?"

"Sound familiar?"

Anna shook her head. "No. But she must've been someone Averi knew in hospital. Probably wrote her the letter and Averi tucked it into the book to read later and never had the chance."

"It's fascinating since she writes to Averi like they're old friends." John paused, "This might be the journalist in me but did you save anything of your sister's from hospital?"

"Why?"

"From the way Ms. Crawley talks in this letter, this wasn't the first one they exchanged and I think we could find out more about her if we found the others." He stopped "Unless I'm venturing where I shouldn't."

"You've got me curious about it Mr. Bates." Anna smiled and then quickly grabbed for her back pocket to remove her mobile. "Unfortunately I think we may have to reconvene at a later date because I'm getting called into work."

"I'm sorry I've probably distracted you from getting ready."

"No," Anna waved him off, "I'm on call so it might've happened or might not. You never know in my job."

"You make it sound awfully glamorous."

"There are days it is and then days where you wish you'd chosen a profession that had your ass in a chair more." Anna held up a finger, "Hold here a moment?"

"Of course." John waited, thumbing through Anna's copy of the book.

He smiled, noting the exchange between the two books. The on-going dialogue between two sisters sharing their hopes and dreams. Taking Averi's copy and Anna's, he placed them back on the shelf as Anna descended the stairs.

She set a box on the sofa and tied her hair back, looking far more official, before gathering her breath. "This is the only box I saved from the great purge. I've been meaning to go through it for years but never had the heart."

"What's in it?"

"Averi's half finished diaries and notes. Some school papers and things but mostly just bits and bobs we couldn't donate like clothes and books or toys." Anna checked her mobile again. "I've got work until at least tomorrow night, maybe the morning after, but I'd like to meet up again. See what you find?"

"I'd like that too." John hefted the box, letter held to the side by his grip. "Maybe we say day after tomorrow for breakfast, to be on the safe side."

"Can you spare that kind of time?" Anna cringed, "You are a long way from London."

John shrugged, "I had the audacity to take holiday."

"You planned to kill yourself on holiday?"

"Thought it'd be ruder to do it when people are waiting on you to finish something."

Anna smiled, "You're a very conscientious suicide."

"I was." John nodded toward the box, "Thank you, for this. It's sparked my curiosity."

"And kept you alive." Anna led them to the door, getting her things and locking it behind them as they crowded on her stoop. "Which I'm grateful for."

"Me too."

They stood there a moment before Anna fished a business card from her pocket. "So you've got my number."

"If you don't think I'm trying anything," John craned his head back to nod toward his back pocket. "I've got my card in back pocket in my wallet."

"First meeting and I already get to touch your ass." Anna grinned, fishing the wallet out and peeling a card away before replacing it. "I'd say we're off to a better start than I had at Uni."

"You're not trapped in a library anymore."

"No I'm not." Anna held up the card, "I'll call you day after tomorrow with a location."

"I'll be waiting." John headed toward his rental, popping the boot to get the box in the back before walking around the front. He held her card up, "If you don't call I've got your number."

"I guess it's mutually assured satisfaction then." She waved him off, "Day after tomorrow."

"Day after tomorrow." He opened the door, "I won't forget."

"I hope not."

John smiled to himself, "How could I?"


	4. Letters

Two Days Later

John held the box under his arm and noticed Anna waving to him from the window. He sat down across from her and bit his lip. She sighed, holding up the coffee mug in front of her.

"I'm sure you're about to suggest we not do this because you're noticing the dark circles under my eyes but I'll have you know that I once went three days straight without sleep and there was an eighteen hour reconstructive surgery in there so this is nothing to me."

"I think what we're about to discuss is a bit deeper than a breakfast conversation." John opened the box and pulled a folder from inside. "I took the liberty of transposing all the notes in your sister's handwriting to typed format so I could read them better."

"In another situation I'd suspect that maybe you had a habit of reading little girl's diaries at a younger age." Anna took the notes from him, "This must've taken you ages."

"Not really, I'm a fast typist."

"How quickly do you type?"

"About seventy words a minute, mistakes factored in." John dug through the box and pulled out a stack of letters written in the same hand as the one they found in the book. "Most importantly I found these."

"More letters from Violet Crawley?" Anna hefted them, "I hope you put these in chronological order?"

"They are but I already transposed them." John tapped the file. "According to what I read from them as I typed it all out, it seems they met in hospital during a dialysis session. Got on rather well since Mrs. Crawley mentions to Averi that she's never heard someone so young whip their tongue with such skill before."

"Averi could turn a phrase and pass a barb faster than you could blink." Anna set the letters to the side and held up a finger, "But I actually decided to do a bit of research of my own."

"You had the time?"

"It's when days at the hospital are slow that we should all rejoice." Anna pulled a medical file from her bag and set in on the table, John barely saving her coffee mug from bouncing and splattering everywhere. "Violet Crawley was a patient in my sister's ward, being treated for pancreatic cancer, advanced stage."

"That sounds horrendously painful."

"From what I've seen it is." Anna opened the file, "But she succumbed to her cancer a few months after my sister did and I've got information on her family. They're local."

"Not sure I'm following why her family file's important."

Anna smiled, "Because Mr. Bates, I found this in her file too." She held up a legal envelop with Averi's name signed on it in a handwriting John could recognize from a distance now. "The conversation goes both ways."

"Was it just the one in there?"

Anna nodded, "I'm guessing it was left with her things when they cleared the room and an endeavoring nurse tucked it into her file expecting to have time to make sure it got delivered later but never had the chance."

"The busy life of saving the world one person at a time."

"Indeed." Anna tapped it on the file before passing it over, "Since you're the expert in fact finding missions perhaps you'd do me the honor?"

"I'd be beyond honored." John carefully pulled the tucked flap loose and pulled out two interfolded sheets of lined paper. "I'll say this for your sister, she wanted to have nicer handwriting."

"Probably inspired by all that cursive."

John straightened the sheets and cleared his throat, " _Dear Mrs. Crawley, It's with some regret that I inform you the doctors' aren't giving me a good prognosis seeing as my organs aren't taking to the treatment and my body's shutting down. But, as you said once, what are we but machines stamped with our expiration dates the moment we're born_?"

He stopped, "She's incredibly self-aware about all of this. And what kind of thirteen-year-old uses 'prognosis' correctly in a sentence?"

"Most of the kids in the wards I treat get to know the medical terminology because they're tired of being talked over by everyone."

"Oh," John found his spot and continued, " _I'm sure your story's far from finished and, if you've the time, I'd like you to write down what you told me and leave it for my sister. I think she'd enjoy the challenge and, once I'm gone, she'll need something to take her mind off what's happened to me_."

"What's she talking about?" Anna frowned, "I don't remember Averi ever saying something about a story."

John set the letter to the side a moment and dug through his typed versions of the other letters and turned to the right page to show Anna. "This is the only time the letters mention anything having to do with a story."

Anna took her turn to read aloud, " _Young Averi it's been such a blessing to finally relieve myself of the burden I've been holding alone for forty years. To finally tell someone who cares what happened to my sister is a boon to my world-weary soul. And what a coincidence that she shares the same name as your sister. Perhaps we'll discover the universe has bent over backwards for us in this and we'll finally put such a mystery to rest._ " She shook her head, "There's nothing else to it here."

"Or in any of the other letters." John shrugged, "I guess they only ever talked about it in person after that."

"Oh to be a fly on that wall." Anna sighed, opening her hand to him. "Could you finish yours?"

"Of course." John darted his eyes to located the end of his previous line. " _My family's about as religious as you'd expect from Anglicans but I believe God or the universe or whatever force guides our lives wanted us to meet, if only to leave something behind for those we'd have to leave behind. I hope the story we leave behind can bring peace to my sister and perhaps yours as well. Maybe they can find one another like we did and then the universe would smile at the symmetry of it._

 _"_ _While most believe the universe doesn't care about us I believe it does. I think our meeting couldn't be coincidence because those don't exist. We're all the product of actions and divine interventions set in motion thousands of years before we were even sparkles in our parents' lives. Things that would conspire to have two people meet in the face of death would also conspire to place a star in ascension to let the light of its birth shine at the birth of Christ or even give one man the presence of mind to successfully complete the first heart bypass. These are the actions of a universe or a God that cares for the actions of mere mortals._

 _"_ _I do hope that your family can see that better than mine does. Perhaps it's because I'm so young and you're not that your family sees your passing as a blessing where mine sees a curse. But what is life but the confluence of circumstances to allow our growth and learning? That's what I believe and I hope your family can be fully reunited and you can finally find peace by finding your sister. Your sincerest friend in death, Averi._ "

John folded the letter and tucked it back in its envelop. He reached over for some napkins and handed them to Anna so she could dab at her eyes. They sat in silence a moment until Anna recovered enough to speak and faced him.

"She's right."

"She's got the vocabulary of a University professor writing a very pretentious book so I'm inclined to believe she's right." John waved his hands toward the information before them. "So what do you want to do with all this?"

"I'm assuming you've got plans for it."

"Personally I'm treating this all like an onion because the more I pull back on it the more I'm convinced there's a deeper story here." John shrugged, "But I'm a journalist and every one of us has this _State of Play_ or _Spotlight_ or _The Pelican Brief_ mindset that tells us there's conspiracy in everything."

"You think some shady government or paramilitary contractor conspired to knock off an old lady and my sister to hide a secret?" Anna smiled, dabbing at some remaining tears while they both laughed a bit together. "I'd have to say, they recruited her young."

"Not that I'd put it past the less morally minded of those in power to resort to using children as mules for something, I don't think so." John tapped the envelop. "I think it's the story of what happened to Violet Crawley's sister."

"Anna."

"What?"

Anna smiled, "She mentioned in her letter to Averi how interesting it was that they had sisters with the same names. I'm Averi's only sister so I'll assume that means Violet Crawley had a sister named 'Anna'."

"Alright so we've got an Anna, of unknown last name, who's somewhere out in the world somewhere with a story that puts some mysterious circumstances on her existence." John shrugged, "I like the implications of a forty-year secret."

"I just hope we don't find out it's like _Atonement_ and we're trying to right the wrong of a woman who got her sister's boyfriend tossed in jail for rape."

"Reading the other letters she sent it doesn't have the 'I did a bad thing and I'm feeling guilty about it' vibe so I'd go with 'circumstances beyond her control'."

Anna sighed, "How did people find one another without Facebook?"

"Or the internet in general." John pointed to the file in Anna's hands. "You said you had contact information for the family?"

"Yeah," Anna opened it, flicking through a few papers before drawing one out, "She's got… or I guess she had a son, Robert Crawley."

"We could find him."

"I know that name." Anna tapped her foot on the floor before snapping her fingers. "He passed away last year."

"How'd you know that?"

"There was a big to-do about it since he was a patron of all these organizations. A real pillar in the community and the rare part was he was completely legitimate. The last Earl of Grantham or something."

"No male heirs?"

"His grandson, I think…" Anna put her palm to her forehead, "There was something about digging out an heir at one point. He was this lawyer or some such."

"Sounds like a bit of drama."

"I'd imagine trying to continue great houses is always dramatic." John sighed, "But did he have any children?"

"Three daughters but only one of them had any interest in the estate and this she's now the Countess of Grantham because she inherited it."

"Think she'd mind if we had scheduled a little chat with her about her grandmother?"

"I don't know Mr. Bates." Anna motioned to all the information gathered around them. "Think she'd mind shifting through this with us."

"We've got what we need in there and maybe she's got Averi's letters to her grandmother." John shrugged, "It's worth a try to see if we can find out who the other Anna is and what happened to her."

Anna grinned, "You're going to turn this into a story aren't you?"

"It'll give me reason to be up here. Although," John cringed, "My editor's not going to like it one bit."

"Why not?"

"First off he's not a huge fan of the puff piece, thinks it crowds the page from what matters. Secondly he wants me in war zones or chasing down government corruption, not trying to find a missing girl from…" John counted on his fingers, "Almost sixty years ago."

"I don't know, people still read about the lost on the _Titanic_ so I can't say there's anything really horrible about the story of reuniting the lost memories of families. People pay a hundred pounds or something to give their DNA to a system that tells them their ancestry. They'd be interested in this."

"I think so too but I've got to convince my editor of that." John gathered the files, "I've got to get back and check out of my room before they bill me for another day."

"You're not staying?" John noted the tone in Anna's voice and the slight downcast to her face.

"I need a better hotel. The one I'm in has neighbors who… let's say I think they're either on honeymoon or they're just really enthusiastic."

"Well…" Anna cleared her throat, not really meeting John's eyes as she fiddled with her fingers. "If it's not going to reek of impropriety, you could stay at mine."

"Considering I asked you to basically touch my ass the first time we met I don't think I'd treat that offer as anything but kind." John smiled, "If you don't mind that I can be a bit of a workaholic."

"I sleep like the dead and I'll be out and about at odd hours so unless we schedule something it'll be like ships passing in the night, Mr. Bates."

"Reminds me of Uni."

"Me too." Anna smiled, "I guess we could endure a bit of the nostalgia couldn't we?"

"I'd like that." John hefted the box and Anna tucked the medical file back in the box. "So I'll check out and be at yours in… an hour?"

"If I don't answer when you knock don't ring the bell or I'll have to murder you because you've woken me up." Anna adjusted the strap on her shoulder. "There'll be a key under the mat. Just let yourself in and take the spare room off the sitting room."

"Perfect." John paused, "Thank you, Ms. Smith. It's one of the nicest things anyone's done for me in quite some time."

"What you're doing is the nicest thing anyone's done for me in a long time too." Anna bit the inside of her cheek. "And thank you."

"For what?"

"You call me 'Ms. Smith' and it makes me feel like a normal person."

"You seem normal to me." They walked out to the carpark. "Unless you're hiding tentacles or something."

"Nothing so dramatic." Anna snorted, "It's just that I'm always 'Doctor Smith' and for once it's nice to feel like what I do isn't all I am."

"I guess we all want to remember we're human." John moved the box to shake her hand. "I'm beyond honored you're letting me join you on this adventure."

"I'd think it's the other way around but I guess we can both be grateful the universe bent for us too." Anna released his hand, "I'll see you later Mr. Bates."

"Until then Ms. Smith."


	5. Relationships

Two Days Later

John squinted at the coffeemaker and turned to see Anna enter the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind me taking the liberty of trying to use this."

"It's all yours if you'll make sure there's enough for two." Anna took a seat, "Did you get in contact with that Countess?"

"I did and she's willing to meet with us at noon." John held a hand out to her, "If you're up for it."

"Absolutely. Just let me wake up and then I'll engage in better conversation."

"The conversation so far's not bad." John dug out two mugs from the cupboard as the machine spluttered to life. "I don't know if I properly thanked you for letting me stay here."

"It's good to have the company." Anna blinked and stood, adjusting where her pajama shirt rode up. "Makes sure I stay fed anyway."

"Was that a concern?"

"It was when I live alone. I eat like a nine-year-old given the money to buy snacks for a road trip."

"Absolutely no restraint?"

Anna nodded, digging in a cupboard for something. "It was probably one of the reasons my boyfriend left. Tired of cooking all the time or finding the wrappers to junk food just filling my bins."

"I thought you kicked him out because he cheated on you."

"He did that too." Anna gave an exclamation of achievement and pulled out the bag of sugary cereal. "Let it be known that Americans don't understand breakfast but they understand how to fake breakfast."

"Chocolate cereal and coffee for breakfast," John filled the mugs and handed hers over. "Not sure that's something you'd recommend to your patients."

"I'm their doctor, not their nutritionist." Anna filled her bowl and held up the box, "Want any?"

"I think that might just kill someone of my age." John sat down to his toast, "My doctor's worried about the risk of heart attack."

"Run in the family?"

"Killed my father at forty-two." John held up a hand, "It's a long time ago and I think we've already swapped enough sad stories to last us both a lifetime."

"In that case, speaking of our story," Anna swallowed from her mug before taking an exploratory dig with her spoon into the rounded dome of her cereal, "How'd your editor take your story idea?"

"With all the disapproval he could manage but since I used the defense you suggested he decided there might be an avenue to pursue with it."

Anna frowned, chewing a moment before swallowing enough to speak, "You mean the whole ancestry angle?"

"Yeah."

"Wow." She made a face, "I didn't think that would work."

"You were going to toss that at me and hope it stuck?"

Anna shrugged, "I did it once in medical school with a procedure."

"How'd that go?"

"I pulled it from my ass during a question-answer session I wasn't actually paying attention to and then found out it was a real thing." Anna took the milk from her bowl and poured it into the rest of her coffee. John made a sound and she rolled her eyes. "Haven't you ever chocolate flavor-tinted your coffee?"

"No because I'm not twenty and I don't have a side hustle or pretend to listen to bands no one's ever heard of."

"Waste not want not I say." Anna took her dishes to the sink, finishing her coffee on the way. "I found something interesting in those letters you so graciously typed out for me."

"More mentions of Anna 2.0?"

She paused then shook her head. "If we observe time in a chronological fashion she'd be Anna Prime."

"Don't you know that time isn't a clear line from cause and effect? It's-"

"A great big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff." Anna winked, "Ten was my favorite."

"I think he was the nation's favorite."

"I don't know, I see quite a few people obsessed with Four and I'm not even a Baker fan." Anna took her seat at the table again, drawing up a let to set her foot on the chair. "No, it was about how Averi met our Mrs. Violet Crawley."

"How?"

"Between the letters and the rest of the medical file I read-"

"Can I read it?"

Anna shook her head, "It's against hospital policy as it'd be a violation of her privacy."

"Then why do you have it?"

"Because I'm staff." Anna stuck out her tongue, "What I found in there, based on the notes from the nurses and her doctors, she was the worst patient they'd ever had."

"I'll assume you don't mean that in terms of her condition."

"No, her attitude. One woman even used the phrase, 'snobbish old curmudgeon' and another just settled with 'wrinkle bitch'." Anna snorted, "Honestly I can't decide which combination of those phrases I like better."

"I don't think we should either of them when asking her granddaughter about her. At least until we take the temperature of the room about her."

"I'm a doctor, not an idiot." Anna leaned on the back of her chair, "But she and Averi were right next to one another in dialysis so one day, according to the first letter, Averi hears her being exacting with the nurse and steps in as a bit of a reprimand."

"Cheeky."

"That's what Mrs. Crawley said." Anna smiled, "She wrote the first letter, far as I can tell from the wording she uses later, and applauds Averi's courage, no-nonsense attitude, and her wit before inviting her to tea."

"Tea?"

"Her schedule indicates an almost religiously maintained teatime." Anna shrugged, "Creatures of habit I guess."

"Based on the other letters Averi went."

"Yeah and they got on like a house on fire but you already knew that."

"Yes and no." John gathered his dishes for the sink, "I got the gist of the conversation but I'll admit I wasn't reading for voice, I was looking for facts."

"The difference between reading for pleasure and reading for profit."

"The big difference." John stopped at the sink, turning to Anna. "Why did you want me to call the family and not you?"

"What?" Anna put the chairs back under the table.

"When we decided to set up a meeting with the Countess of Grantham, why have me call?"

"People never want a doctor calling them because it either means they've got a bill still due or they're dying."

"Sometimes it's good news." Anna gave him a look, "Alright, fair enough, my doctor only ever called to give me bad news."

"The nature of the business." Anna stretched, "I'm going to shower so I don't smell like antiseptic then I'll be ready to get moving."

"I'll just get this all sorted and then take it after you."

"Perfect." She tapped his shoulder, "Just like my roommates at Uni."

"Then you had better luck than I did. The pile in the sink had to move of its own volition before any of them touched it."

"That's disgusting." Anna left the kitchen, taking the stairs to the bathroom and John heard the turn of the faucet as he started the one in the kitchen to rinse off the contents of the sink.

Once he loaded them into the dishwasher, hearing the door to the bathroom open and then close, he took the stairs up and turned the knob. As he walked in they both froze. John's hand flew up to cover his eyes and backed out as quickly as he could before flailing to pull the door closed.

He waited in the hall until the door opened again and closed his eyes on instinct. "I swear I didn't see anything."

"This time or last time?"

"I thought you'd left the bathroom and that it was free."

John heard an exasperated sigh, "Please open your eyes now because I'm dressed so there's not much to see."

He cracked one eyelid and then the other before blinking. "I'm sorry that was unintentional and I-"

"Trust me, if you'd been serious about it then you might've actually shut the door behind you coming into the bathroom instead of leaving it." Anna sighed, "I guess unbridled sexuality's dead."

"It's usually not polite to force yourself on someone."

"That's the risk you would've taken when confronted with me naked I guess." Anna shrugged, "But no matter, there's time for that in the future I think."

"Excuse me?"

"I do hope you don't mind me saying that I think you're very attractive and I'd probably sell a less valuable organ to see you without clothes… on accident or on purpose."

John coughed, "What?"

"It's a joke, Mr. Bates." Anna put a hand on his shoulder, "Though not an entirely funny one and not entirely untrue but before we get to the part where either of us is naked again we should probably do something a little less complicated, like kiss."

"Kissing can get complicated."

"Point taken." Anna headed toward her room as John called out to her.

"Just as a point of curiosity, but how would you like to kiss me… if the chance were presented to you?"

"Preferably?" Anna grinned, "In every possible way again and again."

"Really?"

"Really." She pointed toward the bathroom, "It's free now so you can use it to your hearts content."

John nodded, stuck in place a moment more until he heard her bedroom door click and hurried into the bathroom himself.

* * *

John managed the map in his hands before sorting through the information they brought with them as Anna drove. He snuck looks over at her but when she turned his way he busied himself with the papers in his hands. This continued until they reached a stoplight and Anna faced him.

"What?"

"What?"

"You've been side-eyeing me for twenty minutes now and as much as I think it's cute that you're very… reserved, it's getting annoying. Please say whatever you've been biting back or I'll kick you out of this car."

"It's…" John set the things in his lap and Anna pressed the pedal to get them moving again as the light turned. "What you said earlier. You've not been that frank with me before and I thought it a bit… forward?"

"I think it's almost adorably gentlemanly of you to worry like that." Anna laughed. "But you're right, it's not exactly what you've come to expect from me and I apologize for putting you in an awkward situation."

"I was the one who walked in on you naked."

"True." Anna turned them down a gravel path and they bumped their way through some foliage toward a wrought iron gate. "It's my mechanism for awkward moments. Respond with overt sexuality."

"Does it work?"

"Did this morning because you were more nervous than me." Anna whistled as she looked through the windshield at the house behind the gate. "Someone very pretentious or very giving lives in that house."

"What makes you say that?"

"That kind of grandeur only sparks two personalities. Those who believe strongly in noblesse oblige and those who hate poor people."

"Oh," John pulled a face, " _The Riot Club_."

"Or _Gosford Park_."

"Or that one period drama that made a big splash." John snapped his fingers, " _Upstairs Downstairs_?"

"I thought that was a spoof on the other one." Anna frowned, "My friend was a huge fan but then switched to _Game of Thrones_."

"But you don't remember what it's called?"

"The only things I've seen on television consistently for the last five years are the three networks that cater to children and every Disney movie known to man so I'm no help to you."

"Whatever it was," John pointed at the house, "Place like that engenders a lot of awe and fear. Like the Catholic concept of God in the sixteenth century."

"I thought it applied to any century."

"I haven't been to a Mass since my mother's funeral so I really wouldn't know."

"It's the version of God my parents believed."

John quieted, noting someone running toward the gate, "But not you?"

Anna shook her head, "After Averi died I had a lot of talks with God. He's not as scary as people say."

"He destroyed civilizations."

"And He performed miracles for the individuals so how's that for a paradox." Anna lowered her window as the man came through the gate. "We've got an appointment with the Countess of Grantham."

"Lady Mary's expecting you?" The man rubbed at his balding head, "She didn't mention-"

"John Bates, from _The Guardian_."

"Ah, yes," The man dipped lower to peek through the window, "You look better than your picture Mr. Bates."

"Thank you." John shrugged at Anna as the gate winched back and the man stepped to the side to allow them to drive through. "I guess he's a fan."

"You've got a touch." Anna pulled the car into a space and parked. "Are you ready Mr. Bates?"

He finished sorting the information, "Yes."

They waited for the man to run back to them, holding his side as he wheezed for breath. John noted how Anna covered her mouth with a hand and ducked her head, trying to contain her laughter, as the man held up a finger for them to wait a moment. When he could breathe again he led them toward the large front doors.

"Welcome to Downton Abbey."

"It's a beautiful house." John let Anna go first, craning his head up to take in the massive windows and the decorated interior. "How old is it?"

"It was a medieval palace in the eighth century after they rebuilt the burned abbey. In fact," The man led them to the great hall. "This was the original chapel with that space, now taken up by the stairs, serving as the rectory."

"I'm sure they're not here for a tour of the house, Mr. Moseley." A tall woman with a lifted chin came down the stairs, "Those are Friday afternoons and Saturdays until we open for wedding season."

"Of course Lady Mary." Mr. Moseley bowed to her before addressing John and Anna again. "Would either of you like tea or something else to drink."

"I'll take a water, if you're offering." Anna spoke up but John waved off the request.

"One water then." Mr. Moseley turned to Lady Mary, "Should I bring it here or will you be in one of the other rooms?"

"I think we'll use the small library." Lady Mary gestured to one of the rooms off the great hall. "If you don't mind."

"We're amenable to anything." John extended his hand toward her, "Thank you for allowing us to visit you today Lady Mary. I understand it's short notice and you're probably very busy."

"Not as busy as I'd like to be but that's modern farming for you. With machines and specially developed crops what's there to plan but your fallow and harvest schedules?" She led them to seats next to a large fireplace and took the sofa opposite them. "But I doubt you're invested in farming yourselves."

"I can't say I've had anything but a black thumb in terms of gardening." John turned to Anna, who shook her head.

"My job doesn't grant me hobbies… or a social life."

"What is it that you do?"

"I'm a pediatrician at the hospital."

Lady Mary snorted, "Then you've seen my son and niece."

"Possibly, what were their names?"

"George was in there last year with a gash on his head from where he decided to dance circles that danced him right into the rocking chair over there." Lady Mary pointed, "That was five stitches and his father bought him ice cream for not crying afterward."

"I don't remember a head laceration like that one."

"Or Sybbie, who broke her wrist trying to perform a parkour stunt off the back of that sofa."

Anna smiled, nodding, "I do remember a little girl chattering about her moment in flight when I set her wrist. But I think her last name was Branson, not Crawley."

"Her father's last name is Branson. He lives in the rooms here since my sister passed away from preeclampsia."

"I'm so sorry." Anna shook her head, "That's a difficult one."

"They were lucky they saved Sybbie. I don't know what Tom would've done without her. Or what I would've done without Tom." Lady Mary took a breath, "He was my rock when my husband passed."

"If you don't mind," John spoke up, "How did the last Earl of Grantham die?"

"Oh," Lady Mary shook her head, "My husband died in a car accidence but the last Earl of Grantham was my father, Robert Crawley, and he passed from a burst ulcer. They thought he'd make it but the bleeding wouldn't stop and he went rather quickly. One moment he's spitting up blood at the dinner table and the next he's breathing his last in operating theater."

They all sat in silence a moment before she spoke again, "I do hope you're not printing any of that, Mr. Bates."

"It's got nothing to do with my story so no, I wouldn't do you the disrespect. You've already invited us into your lovely home and I'd be a poor guest to invade on that hospitality."

"Then you're kinder than a few people who've blackmailed me in the past with the harrowing details of my family's tragedies and missteps." Lady Mary frowned, "Though I was intensely curious what a writer for _The Guardian_ wants with my family."

"It's more what your family has in common with my family, Lady Mary." Anna cleared her throat, "Your grandmother, Violet Crawley, was a friend to my sister."

"That's a genuine surprise since my grandmother considered few people her friend."

"They met while in hospital, treatment for their respective cancers, and became fast friends." Anna dug in her bag for the stack of letters in Violet Crawley's impeccable cursive. "They wrote letters back and forth to one another until my sister passed."

"I guess we're not strangers to tragedy here are we?" Lady Mary thumbed through the letters. "But I'm also not the kind of person to believe you're here just to deliver some letters to me."

"We're actually interested in the other half of the conversation." John shifted forward on the sofa. "We've only got the letters that your grandmother wrote to Ms. Smith and we'd like to see the letters Averi wrote back."

Lady Mary stopped, frowning. "Averi?"

"My sister's name."

"No, that I understood." Lady Mary waved her hand, standing and turning a half circle before walking to the table on the side. She pressed a button on the phone there and waited for a voice to respond, "Ms. Baxter could you come to the library a moment?"

Lady Mary returned to her seat. "When my grandmother's house was cleaned after her death there were boxes of items that my father stored in the attic, meaning to get to them eventually, but he passed before he could. We've a woman here from the historical society who's been going through some of it recently for an exhibit they're putting on and she might know something about it."

A thin woman, clutching her hands in front of her, entered the room and Lady Mary stood to address her. "Ms. Baxter, do you remember going through my grandmother's things and finding a stack of letters?"

"There were quite a few letters in there Lady Mary."

"What about any that looked like this?" Anna stood as well, holding up the letter of Averi's from Violet Crawley's file. "Any of these?"

Ms. Baxter stepped forward, studying the letter before nodding. "There were a stack of them. I grouped them for archival."

"Would you mind, terribly, if we had a look at them?" John turned to Lady Mary who shrugged.

"It's your interest, not mine. I only remembered them because I thought the name a bit odd."

"I'll get them." Ms. Baxter went for the door and John snuck a look at Anna before addressing Lady Mary again.

"We've another question that might be a bit more personal than the letters we mentioned."

"Regarding?"

"Your grandmother's sister, Anna."

Lady Mary shook her head, "My grandmother didn't have a sister."

"Actually," Ms. Baxter called to them, her hand still on the knob to the door. "She did have a younger sister."

"What?" Lady Mary frowned, "I never met her."

"The story is," Ms. Baxter wrung her hands, coming closer to them again. "She was committed to an asylum for… for…"

"I assume for something." Lady Mary waited and John noted the depth of red to Ms. Baxter's skin.

"Nymphomania." John's eyebrows widened and Anna tried to restrain her cough as Lady Mary sighed before dropping her face into her palm. Ms. Baxter shuffled and finally spoke, "There are a number of mentions of her in your grandmother's diaries and I've noticed a number of references to her in some records of the family."

"Who committed her?" Anna stepped toward Ms. Baxter but the other woman looked at Lady Mary before speaking.

"I'm sure the papers are in the archives."

"It would seem, Mr. Bates and Dr. Smith," Lady Mary waved a hand toward Ms. Baxter, "There's more than enough for you to research and I wish you luck in your discovery."

"Thank you Lady Mary." John shook her hand again. "I would like your permission to write the story of what we find."

"On the condition that if you find anything that brings a dark cloud over this family you can't print it and I want final say on whatever you submit to your editor."

"That's more than fair."

"Then we've a deal Mr. Bates." Lady Mary smiled, "I wish you luck."

"Thank you." John faced Ms. Baxter and Anna. "Are we ready?"

Ms. Baxter led them to the door. "Follow me."


	6. Memories

John coughed when the box he shifted brought up a pile of dust. From a nearby table Anna laughed, working her way through a diary while making notes on the pad beside her. "I thought you said you were good at this Mr. Bates."

"And I thought you had no experience in it." John opened the box and filtered through the contents.

"It's like studying and research, both of which I'm very good at." She snuck a look up at him from under her eyebrows. "Recall how I mentioned a great many hours trapped inside libraries to get where I am now."

"Reading bad cursive and flipping through medical files?" John teased, opening his box to sort through the contents. "I'm sure all those hours training for this are coming in very handy."

"You'd be surprised to know but I actually studied a bit about the old asylum system as part of my early research in medical school so I am rather prepared for this." Anna turned another page and scrawled a quick note. "I do know what I'm about."

"Impressive."

She shrugged, "One of my many talents."

"I'm gad you believe you've got many." John shook his head, replacing the contents of the box and setting it back on the marked shelf. "So many people try to pretend they're achingly normal and it's rather frustrating."

"You're not one of those people?"

John turned at her question, shaking his head. "No and I'd make a fool of myself and everyone else if I claimed to be."

Anna sat back, "What makes you so different Mr. Bates?"

"Other than the fact that I dragged a pediatric surgeon to a large archive to hunt down traces of a woman committed to an asylum sixty years ago on a count of nymphomania?"

She snorted, "When you put it that way I guess I can see the gaps in logic."

John smiled back, "I did a piece on one of the last surviving asylums a few years ago when they tore it down to build estate housing."

"And?"

"I found that the system I already believed riddled with holes gaped its open maw toward the indigent, the underrepresented, and the conveniently oppressed."

"Conveniently oppressed?"

"People try not to oppress those who'll give them a hard time about it." John sighed, "That was when I realized I didn't want to be normal. At least as a journalist I didn't want to be. I felt I owed it to those who didn't have a voice to speak for them and I committed to that."

Anna nodded, silent a moment. "Then why, if you're committed to saving the world on your own, were you going to commit suicide?"

"We all get selfish."

"I don't know if that's the kind of selfish I've ever been but I understand the sentiment." Anna sat up, pulling her chair back to the table. "More to the point, I'm glad you didn't do it."

"Really?"

"Of course." Anna shrugged, going back to her notes, "Because I need someone to help me make sense of all this and you're the only one I know who can."

"That's the hope." John opened another box, "Can I ask you something then?"

"I reserve the right not to answer."

"Fair enough." John slipped his hand between two files to hold his place as he looked up at Anna. "Why did you research asylums in medical school?"

Anna shrugged, "I'd read this book that had me really thinking about how we treat those with mental illness. One of the few books I read in medical school that was for pleasure if I'm honest."

"You read a book for pleasure that had you thinking about your work?"

"Everything should have you thinking about your work if you're passionate about it." Anna tapped her pencil on the pad, "But this one really did a number on me. Had me questioning everything I'd thought about medicine and even doubting for a moment if it was the right course."

"Obviously you stayed committed to it."

"Much like you, Mr. Bates, I devoted myself to something I thought I could better and change." Anna sighed, "I shied away from psychiatric medicine because of it though. The body I can heal. The mind I'm leaving alone."

"I think we should all be well aware of our limits." John went back to looking through the file. "I'm not always good about listening to mine."

"It wasn't about limits."

John looked up, "Sorry?"

"It was…" Anna bit at her lip, as if searching for the right words. "It was about knowing what'd been done in the name of science or helping people and feeling sick about it."

"What'd you mean?"

"Electro Shock Therapy, advanced lobotomies, even locking people in padded rooms with little food." Anna shook her head, "I understand the medicine is ever evolving and the kind of procedures that killed three men in one sitting in the American Civil War are what brought us to this point but it's still barbaric."

"The consequences of living on the cusp of discovery I suppose."

"I suppose." Anna quieted before speaking again. "The worst part about the asylum system, in the days that this other Anna would've endured it, is that they could put anyone away for any reason."

"Sounds a bit like the old 'take her to a nunnery' idea."

"It's not much different since it was usually women people wanted to be rid of. Those women who weren't even mad when they entered those buildings but surely were by the time they left." Anna sat back in her chair, tossing her pen on the table as she massaged the bridge of her nose and then over her eyes. "The system mad them mad."

"I guess the world makes mad men of us all." John chewed the inside of his cheek. "We're all mad here, as it said in _Alice in Wonderland_."

"I was never a huge fan of that book." Anna returned to her notes, closing the book and pulling a file toward her.

"I don't think anyone really was." John's fingers alighted on a file and he opened it to reveal a packet of legal-sized envelopes. "This, however, I think we'll both be fans of."

Anna glanced up, her face brightening, "Averi's letters to Violet?"

"Yep." John hefted them carefully, "We'll be able to fill in the gaps of the conversation. See if she made any more mention of this other Anna."

"I've actually got a name for her." John and Anna shifted to see Ms. Baxter emerging from the recesses of the shelves with a small box in her hands. "Her name was Anna Bancroft and she was Violet Crawley's younger sister."

"Do we know why they committed her?"

Ms. Baxter's shoulders hunched up, as if bearing a weight there she wished she could slough off. "As I said earlier-"

"We know about the accusation of nymphomania," Anna interrupted her kindly, "We're wondering if there are more details to it. There are too many incidents of women being committed under false pretenses."

"I'm aware." Ms. Baxter came toward them, setting the box on the table and wringing her hands. "It was a project I unearthed for the historical society a few years ago when they shut down the last asylum in our area."

"Then we're all relatively certain that Anna Bancroft didn't suffer from nymphomania."

Ms. Baxter nodded, "Given my research into the life of Violet Crawley I'd be hard pressed to call anyone in her family anything but the pictures of decorum."

"Then who goes to the trouble of accusing a woman of nymphomania?" Anna rolled her eyes, "Amazing what fifty years does to the perception of social acceptability in this country."

"In any country." John added, shifting back through his box to find a file. "This could tell us."

"What is it?" Anna stood, peering into the box as John drew out an old medical file. "Her asylum records."

"Let's hope." John opened it, noting Ms. Baxter worrying over the box she had carried over. "Have you seen these Ms. Baxter?"

"It's… it's why I found this." Ms. Baxter tapped the top of the box. "I've spent over a year up here going through files trying to sort out the life history of the Crawley family and when I happened on mentions of Anna Bancroft I got curious."

"What got you curious about her?" John set the file on the table but Anna exchanged it for the one she went through and immediately buried herself in the medical records.

"It was more that she wasn't mentioned in any of the family records, only by Mrs. Crawley." Ms. Baxter took a seat, perching on the end of it like a nervous bird. "For a stretch I thought maybe she was Violet's imaginary friend but I thought it exceedingly odd that a woman in her late twenties still had an imaginary friend."

"Then what did you find?"

"I found a birth certificate for Anna May Bancroft buried in the local records office." Ms. Baxter sighed, "She was listed as Violet Crawley's parents but given how far apart they were in age I don't think that's true."

"What do you think Ms. Baxter?"

Ms. Baxter shuffled, "I think she was an illegitimate child. The certificate was official but it looked hurried, as if someone had gone to great lengths to make sure the dates were correct so no one would notice."

"But you noticed."

"I noticed because I've seen a lot of hastily scribbled records to give legitimacy to children born in less than desirable circumstances." She sighed, "More to the point, I don't think she was Violet Crawley's sister."

"Then who would she be?"

"Perhaps a cousin or even the child of a close friend trying to avoid scandal." Ms. Baxter opened the box, "More to the point, I found a will written by a childless heiress known to run in the Crawley's social circle at the time of Anna Bancroft's birth that listed her as the sole heir. Why leave your fortune to someone else's child?"

"Her mother left her a fortune?" John whistled, "That's reason enough to commit her. Seize her assets since she becomes a ward of the state."

"But her family didn't commit her." Anna interrupted them and both turned to her as Anna held up a letter. "The local priest did."

"What?"

"A Father Alex Green wrote to the local authorities about her being, and I quote, _raving with sexual delusions and immoral proclivities only expressed by those suffering from the worst throes of nymphomania_." Anna put down the letter, "I think he broke his pencil writing this."

"So he either believed it or he wanted everyone else to think he believed it." John faced Ms. Baxter, "Do you know anything about an Alex Green?"

"I know he was the parish pastor for the Anglican church but there's not much more about him here." She cringed, "You'd have to go through the Church for that."

"I wonder what they'd give us on him."

Anna made scoffing noise, "We won't have to ask the Church. He's still alive and living jut twenty minutes away."

"He's got to be almost eighty years old."

"Eighty three this year." Anna held up the phone, "But we can only hope his memory's still intact enough to give us what we want."

"I've never interviewed a man of the cloth that I didn't find a little bit suspicious." John gathered the letters and a few other things before facing Ms. Baxter, "We'll return these things as soon as we've got a record of them, if that's alright."

"Perfectly." She smiled as John grabbed his bag and turned to Anna.

But she was frowning at the file in front of her. "Ms. Baxter, there's no record of a release in here."

"I'm sorry." Ms. Baxter came to her side, "No record of what?"

"Anna Bancroft's release report from the asylum." Anna flipped through the other pages in the medical file. "If the asylum closed in eighty-nine then there should be a record of either her release or her transfer to another facility."

"I have records of all the other releases," Ms. Baxter's brow furrowed, "I've got them all digitized and part of the public record."

"That's what I'm saying," Anna held up the file, "Hers should be in here, as copy, for her file transfer to whatever hospital had her next. Since you have the file then I'm assuming they gave it to Violet Crawley but Violet Crawley never took responsibility for her sister. There'd be a record of that in here if she did."

"What are you saying?" John stopped at the door, "That Ann Bancroft just vanished?"

Anna shrugged, tapping the papers, "I can't find anything for her after sixty-six. If she existed then they lost the rest of her file and she's somewhere buried in a system that's only half digitized."

"Wait a moment," Ms. Baxter went to the box and pulled out a few more papers. "These were kept in Mrs. Crawley's personal things."

John took them, shuffling the few scraps in his hand. "It's a police report that says Anna Bancroft when missing in sixty-six. They had a manhunt, according to this clipping, for her but they didn't find her after a month and ruled her dead."

"Who inherited her estate?" Anna set her palms on the table, leaning forward.

"Mrs. Crawley did." Ms. Baxter answered, "With Anna Bancroft ruled deceased then her will was carried out and Mrs. Crawley inherited her fortune."

"I thought Mrs. Crawley was already wealthy."

"She was and that's why it's never been touched." Ms. Baxter shrugged, "In all of her diaries she seems convinced that her sister would come back for her money."

"Given that everything about this woman's life seems to be half vanished I think what we've got is a bad case of poor record management." John sighed, "Nowadays you find someone by tapping a few clicks on a screen but back then you could vanish if you didn't come to a single social function."

"We know she existed and we're about to talk to someone who had definitive contact with her so," Anna gathered her things, snapping a picture of the original committal notice before tucking it away. "We've got another lead. Thin though it is."

"Actually," John reached over the table and nabbed the whole file. "It's the only real proof we've got of her so far."

"I'll need it back when you're done." Ms. Baxter warned and John held it up.

"We'll be careful with it."

"Ms. Baxter," Anna held up a finger to stop John leaving. "Did she ever write Mrs. Crawley?"

"I've not found any personal letters from her but if your suppositions thus far are correct then the issue is probably that those letters never arrived." Ms. Baxter sighed, "The more I find out about this woman the more tragic her life becomes."

"I guess we'll see if this tale really ends in tragedy." Anna smiled at her, "Thank you, for all your help."

"It's my pleasure." She nodded at them, "I do hope you'll keep me informed as to what you find."

"It'll be our pleasure." John held the door open for Anna and followed her out. They walked away from the back of the great house a ways before he spoke again. "Do you really want to go an question a geriatric churchman?"

"I want to find out what makes a man like that decide that a twenty-year-old girl is capable of nymphomania." Anna snorted, "Every girl I knew who was twenty could be considered a nymphomaniac."

"Most of the men I knew were that by twelve." John arranged the files carefully in his bag and opened Anna's door when she dug her keys from her pocket. "But still…"

"You're the journalist, isn't it your job to hold everyone accountable?" John managed a half shrug, shutting her door and walking around the car to his side as she started it. Anna shifted in her seat to turn to him, "More to the point, he's the last living person we know of that could help us find out what happened to Anna Bancroft."

"There's a doctor in her file," John tugged it free and found the name before his eyebrows rose. "What are the odds?"

"What?" Anna looked over and he turned the file to her.

"Her doctor had my name."

"It's not an uncommon name." Anna steered out of the drive and aimed for the road. "It's not like his name is John Smith or something."

"True." John pulled out his phone, searching quickly and then sighing, "But he's since deceased."

"How long ago?"

"Five years." John tucked his phone away, "Not much else about him other than he lived in Ireland and his wife survived him."

"No children?"

"Not mentioned in the public record I found but it's an internet search on a phone, what could we really expect?"

"You're not about to tell me you're a luddite are you?" Anna made a face, "I don't know if I could stand that."

"It's more that I like real keys under my fingers and these screens get smaller so it's hard to manipulate my huge hands over them."

"Get a bigger phone."

"Then it doesn't fit into my pocket." John waved it off, "It's the constant struggle with technology."

Anna laughed to herself, "I don't know, big hands might not be a struggle."

"What?"

"Well," Anna turned onto the road, using her phone's GPS to guide them to their next destination. "You said you're huge hands can't manipulate the small screen so I'm just curious what they can manipulate."

John frowned and then his eyes widened. "Ms. Smith, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"I've kissed a few things with this mouth and I'd like to kiss a few more."

"It's a good thing we're going to see a priest." John shook his head, "You've got some confessing to do."

"Not sure he's the one I'd like to confess to."

"And why not?"

"Because that might involve me getting on my knees and I'd rather do that with someone else."

John choked as his response and Anna only laughed.

The rest of their drive wound them smoothly through the later afternoon to a small hamlet not far from Downton. They stopped for a bite at a pub called the Red Lion before Anna drove them into a warren of houses and cottages. With John calling directions to her they eventually found the right address.

Anna pulled the car to a stop outside a small cottage and turned the engine off. "I do hope he's awake."

"It's early evening." John unbuckled, "I think we'll be fine."

"He's old John, they eat breakfast at four pm for the next day."

"I didn't take you for a Billy Crystal fan." John got out of the car and Anna followed suit.

"I like good comedy and it was one of my grandmother's favorites." Anna closed the door and joined John on the path to the house. "How should we introduce ourselves."

"Preferably not as the people hoping to uncover a conspiracy as to why he had a girl committed to an asylum." John pushed the button for the doorbell.

"I wasn't going to lead with that."

"How would you lead?"

"We're doing research and need his expertise on the area from sixty years ago?" Anna shrugged, "I thought there was merit to the truth wrapped in a vague comment."

"There is. We should go with that." John turned as a young girl answered the door, "Hello, we're looking for Alex Green."

"I'm Alex Green." She folded her arms over her chest, "How can I help you?"

John gaped a moment, blinking rapidly before clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, I mean we're looking for an Alex Green who's much older than you."

"And a man." Anna clarified.

The girl's face brightened, "I know. Technically I'm Alexandra Green but my grandfather's in here."

"You live with him?"

"I'm his nurse while I'm attending Uni." She held the door open, "This way."

"We hope we're not disturbing you." John commented, letting Anna go first and the other girl shook her head.

"Nah, he never sleeps anymore." She closed the door and then motioned with her arm down the hall, "He's in his library."

"Library?"

"Technically it's a study but he can think what he wants when he covered all the walls with books." She knocked on the door, waited for the 'Enter' and then opened it. "Got some people to see you Grandad."

A white haired man in a high backed chair looked up from his position by a fire and adjusted his glasses on his nose. "Were we expecting anyone?"

"No but they're here…" Alex stopped, "Why are you here again?"

"We're here about-" John started but then Green caught sight of Anna and he practically screamed.

Everyone jumped, Alex toward her flailing grandfather while John and Anna jumped backward. She tried to calm him as Anna and John looked at one another, confused etched on their faces, before turning back to the struggle between granddaughter and her grandfather. After a moment she calmed him.

"What is it Grandad?"

He raised a shaking finger at Anna. "You can't be here. You're dead."

Alex took a step back from her grandfather, "What?"

"Anna Bancroft can't be in this room right now because she's dead and I was the one who killed her."


	7. Confessions

They gaped at him, Anna recovering first, "Could you repeat that please?"

"I think it was pretty clear." Alex scoffed, "He just said he killed someone named Anna Bancroft."

"I get the feeling that's not all there is to this." John tried to assure her but Alex threw him off.

"My grandfather's not the kind for histrionics or dramatic displays."

"Then it doesn't mean what we think so let's not jump to conclusions." John stepped forward, "Sir, this is Anna Smith, not Anna Bancroft."

"What?" The old man blinked then shook himself, "Yes of course. She'd be much older now. Much older. What was I thinking?"

"That you've got something to tell us." Anna moved to John's side. "Why would you say you killed Anna Bancroft?"

"I… I…" He struggled to speak and Alex hurried forward to force a straw between his lips so he could suck down water. After a moment she removed it, her face like thunder.

"They want to know how you're convinced you killed someone Grandad and frankly I am too."

"It's not that simple." He managed, hauling in wheezing that breaths and made John cringe but neither Alex nor Anna seemed to feel equivalent sympathy.

"Then perhaps it's best if you tell us as clearly and concisely as possible." Anna pointed to two chairs, "Mind if we sit in these?"

Alex shrugged, "Be my guest."

"Alex?" Father Green turned to her, face written over with what he considered betrayal. "You're letting these people into my house?"

"Yeah and if they get the kind of reaction you just gave I'll let a dozen more do the same." Alex grabbed the back of a rolling desk chair and brought it around to close the circle. "So go on. Tell us how you killed someone named Anna Bancroft."

He hung his head and John cleared his throat to get Alex's attention. "I think you should probably be up to speed on this."

"That'd be nice." Alex crossed one leg over the other before folding her arms over her chest. "Who are you anyway? You look familiar but I don't think I've seen you on any of my shows."

"I'm not an actor."

"You could be with that face. Very period piece feeling to you." Alex pursed her lips and John caught the snigger Anna hid behind her hand. "How would I know you?"

"I'm a reporter from _The Guardian_ and I'm here to find out more about a missing persons case."

"This Anna Bancroft woman?"

"That's her."

"And she's your assistant?" Alex jerked a thumb in Anna's direction and John shrugged.

"She's helping me as a partner more than assistant." John shifted enough to face Father Green, who now had narrowed eyes only for John. "She's the one who found the form you wrote out to commit Anna Bancroft all those years ago. The one you used to suggest to the police that she was unstable."

"The words he used were," Anna drew the file from John's bag and read it aloud to the cringing reactions of Father Green. " _Raving with sexual delusions and immoral proclivities only expressed by those suffering from the worst throes of nymphomania_."

"You must understand," Father Green insisted, his voice taking on a bit more depth than before. "It was a different time."

"I get the feeling people aren't so different." Anna tucked the file back into John's bag. "But this is your chance to explain why you committed a twenty-year-old girl to a mental institution."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try us." John tried to keep him voice even but noted the furious frowns on Alex and Anna's faces. "We're just trying to find the truth."

"The truth isn't something you want to find." Father Green shuffled in his chair, interlacing his fingers and pulling them apart with a rasping sound like old paper shifting. "And I won't tell this story while my granddaughter's in the room."

"Why not? Afraid I won't like what I hear?" Alex managed, standing up from her chair fast enough to send it rolling toward the wall. "Afraid it'll change how I feel about you?"

"Yes."

"You just admitted to killing someone and you had someone committed for nymphomania." Alex let out a kind of barking laugh, "Are you serious?"

"It was a different time."

"And you wonder why I won't introduce you to my black girlfriend." Alex snorted, "I always knew you were a racist bigot but I didn't think it was that bad."

"Alex-"

"No," Alex shook her head, going for the door. "Mum was right about you. No wonder she never talks to you and why Dad always warns me away. They know what you are."

She left the room with a slamming of the door that had John jumping slightly in his chair. He cleared his throat, turning back to Father Green but he saw no remorse there. It was more of a surrender to resignation.

"She's always been like that. Believed her mother's stories of… impropriety when she was younger. But it's not true."

"I'd hope you're not one of those people about to prove those horrible stereotypes of the cloth and pedophilia true." John cringed, "We're not here for that kind of expose."

"Good, because it's not true. I never touched-"

"Stuff it." Anna groaned, "We don't want your defenses or whatever you've got tucked in your sleeves. We want the truth about what you did to Anna Bancroft."

"You wouldn't understand." He insisted but John silenced him, frustrated with the inevitable circle this man might get them into.

"Like she said, shut it. We're here for the truth and don't you dare suggest we wouldn't understand because we don't care. Whatever reasons you had for what you did you can square away with God on your own time. We're here to find out what happened to Anna Bancroft. We don't care about your story other than when you enter her life to when you left it. Hopefully, for her sake, those dates were closely aligned."

Father Green did not immediately respond and for a moment John wondered if they could get anything out of the old man. But eventually he took another breath, sucked a bit more water through the straw of his drink, and then settled back in his chair. "I met Anna Bancroft when I was a new priest for the parish."

"And then what?"

Father Green shifted in his seat and Anna sighed. "We'll find the truth out from you or whomever else we've got to dig up. It's nothing to us and we've got nothing but time."

"You don't-"

"If you say we 'don't understand' one more time I think I'll have to risk whatever police report you'll file to break your nose." Anna moved her chair to sit right in front of the old man. She narrowed her eyes a moment, studying him. "What else did you do to her Father Green?"

"I…" He lowered his head, tears edging his eyes. "I…"

John watched the exchange and then let out a breath. "You raped her."

Anna turned to John, shock on her face that only worsened when Father Green nodded. She backed up, practically out of her chair, and her throat muscles could not stop as she perpetually swallowed. "You bastard."

"I'm not proud of it."

"I shouldn't think so." John put a hand on Anna's arm when she reached for him. "But we're not here to pity you. We're here to know why you committed Anna Bancroft to an asylum."

"Because she wouldn't have me." Father Green's tears fell over his face but neither John nor Anna seemed all that concerned with offering him a tissue. "I thought if I could-"

"We're not in the Old Testament." Anna shook her head, "You tossed her in there to make sure no one would find out what you did because who's going to believe a mad nymphomaniac?"

"I'd hoped she'd change her mind and then I'd write for her release."

"You didn't keep visiting her did you?" John forced himself to dig his nails into the fabric of the chair under him to stop himself launching at the man across from him when Father Green nodded in affirmation. "You forced her to see you, after what you did to her."

"I thought, with time-"

"She'd what? Love you?" Anna could have spit at the man and he would not have flinched back faster than with her words. "An abuser and disgusting rapist like you? A racist bigot and an entitled prick?"

"I don't think-"

"You know what." Anna stood you, "You were right. I don't understand. Don't understand how you could stand in front of all those people in you parish week after week and decry sin or whatever it is you did while you were guilty of those heinous crimes."

"No one's perfect."

"Then I'm guessing you've not got a soap to wash off the blood on your hands." Anna went to the door, leaving her last remarks for John. "I'll be in the car when you're done with this asshole."

Father Green jumped when the door slammed again and John sighed, "There's not much more to say I think but you're our last hope in finding out anything about Anna Bancroft."

"After she was committed there was only a three month period before her doctor restricted my visits." Father Green managed a snort, "Said I wasn't helping her recovery."

"You weren't but I guess you're too far up your own ass to see that."

Father Green ignored the comment, "She ran away from the asylum a year later. They said she'd escaped and I tried to help find her but she was gone. They declared her dead and that's the last I saw of her."

"What doctor denied you visitation?"

"Some new man who got there two weeks before he stopped all my visits. A Doctor Bates."

John managed a little smiled of satisfaction. "And what about him?"

Father Green shrugged. "I only know he left the asylum shortly after she disappeared. Said he couldn't take the strain or something."

"How'd you know what he said?"

"Because he visited me." Father Green forced himself to stand and for all the righteous ire that made John hope the man stumbled and broke a hip, he reached out to stabilize him before Father Green brushed him off.

He shuffled to a shelf and pulled a leather-bound book from between two ledgers. This he passed over to John before retaking his seat. John opened it and noticed the handwriting from the medical file, the signature of the other John Bates.

Father Green pointed to the book, "He left that for me with a note saying he knew it all and if I wanted to keep my profession and anything else that mattered to me I'd leave it all alone."

"Leave what alone?"

"I don't know." Father Green slumped in the chair, like all life had gone out of him. "It just said that he was done hiding from the world, couldn't take the strain of a secret like that anymore, and hoped I burned in Hell."

"I'm sure a few people share that sentiment." John flipped through the pages. "I hope you don't want this back."

"Keep it. In fact," Father Green waved at the books on the shelves. "Take any of them you want. My doctors say I'll not last another six months."

"No thank you." John grabbed his bag and tucked the book inside. "I don't think I'd want charity from you."

"That's not how charity works."

John stopped, breathing deeply to restrain himself. "I'm sure there's a great many things about this world that I don't understand but people like you are the worst I think. People who abuse the power they have, abuse people around them, and make everyone miserable."

"You don't know misery."

"It's the sad and desperate ravings of a man still trying to justify his actions."

Father Green quieted, "I loved her."

"No, you lusted after her." John went to the door, "I thought a churchman was supposed to know the difference."

He left the room and found Alex in the hall. She nodded toward the door, "Did he kill her?"

"No."

"But he did something horrible to her?" John could only nod and Alex hung her head. "My grandmother killed herself when my Mum was just twelve, did you know that."

"I'll be honest, I don't know anything about your family." John gestured back toward the door. "I only came here to find out how he connected to Anna Bancroft."

"Was it gruesome?"

"It wasn't pleasant."

"Did it help?"

"I hope so." John patted his bag. "He did have something I hope gives us a clue to get us to the next step in all this."

"If you find the woman, if she's still alive," Alex turned to a small table near the door and scribbled down a number before handing the scrap of paper to John. "Could you drop me a line? If she's alive I want to apologize for my Grandad and if she's dead I want to lay flowers on her grave."

John stared at the number before looking at Alex. "May I ask why?"

"For whatever he said in there, my Grandad's a complicated guy. My mother as convinced for the longest time he murdered my grandmother but I found out later she committed suicide because… he never said her name." John frowned and Alex reddened. "During sex he always said someone else's name."

"Oh," John swallowed, "That's-"

"Awkward, I know, and I wouldn't know anything about it except I found a bunch of my grandmother's things when I was cleaning out a room and she wrote about it in her suicide note. Said she couldn't stand the idea that my Grandad was in love with someone else and always had been." Alex managed a breath, "My Mum always thought it was a little girl and developed this idea that my Grandad was some kind of pervert. She told my Dad and now they never see him."

"But you do?"

Alex shrugged, "It's free living space and all I've got to do is mange him between the shifts for his care nurses. It's not a bad situation and I've… we're not close but he's not a monster. Damaged, deranged, and definitely disturbed in his perceptions about things but otherwise he's just a broken old man."

"Then I guess it's a comfort to know he's not a killer."

"You can kill people in different ways." Alex nodded at the paper still in John's hand. "Please, if you do find her, let me know?"

"I will." John headed for the door, "I'll assume my partner's already out in the car?"

"She stormed out a bit ago so unless she drove off without you then yes."

"Thank you, for everything." John held out a hand and Alex shook it.

"I recognize you now. I read that piece you did on those school riots up in Inverness."

"I didn't think anyone read them."

"My girlfriend's from there." Alex smiled, "She appreciated your fair representation of the situation."

"I try to be impartial."

"Then I look forward to reading what you write about Anna Bancroft. And," Alex bit at her lip, releasing John's hand. "If you could leave out our part of it, much as you can. I don't want to wear that shame."

"If I'm anything in my writing, I'm discreet." John assured her, "I won't write anything I don't need to."

"But I do want you to write her story." Alex put a hand out as she opened the door for him. "It needs telling and I think you could do it. I just-"

"I understand." John headed toward the car, "It was a pleasure meeting you Alex."

"And you Mr. Bates. Tell the same to your Ms. Smith there."

John raised a hand to her before getting into the car. Anna sat in her seat, the tension in her jaw almost quivering over her body as she kept her focus straight ahead. Her hands, already clamped over the steering wheel, were white at the knuckles.

"Do we have to come back here?"

"No. We're done." John withdrew the book. "But we've got our next lead."

Anna barely glanced at it. "I'll think about that later."

"Are you…" John stowed the book and tried to choose his next words with the care of someone walking a minefield. "Do you need something?"

"A desolate moor." Anna buckled herself in. "I hope you don't mind a bit of a detour."

"Not at all."

They drove until they reached a little place near Helmsley. Anna parked the car and John hurried to follow her when she exited it. He maintained his distance as she walked to the edge of a deserted section and put her hands to the side of her head. She paced back and forth a minute before screaming.

It carried over the air, reverberating to John's very bones. He gave a hurried look around, to make sure no one was around, and then worked closer to her when Anna let out another scream. When he reached her she was on her knees, holding her sides, and rocking herself back and forth while she managed half choked sobs.

"Anna?" He rested a hand on her shoulder and when she did not flinch away John edged closer. "What's wrong?"

Anna shook her head, "I'll be fine in a moment."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"How could you even talk to that man?" Anna faced him and John blinked.

"I've… I've talked to worse people than a dying churchman."

"Wasn't it hard for you?"

"Of course it was but I wanted to find out what I could about Anna Bancroft." John arranged himself on the ground, wincing as his right left twinged. "I know he's a horrible human being but he did give us the next clue. Whatever else he is… That's the business of God."

"We should've told someone."

"What?"

"We should've told someone." Anna repeated as she went to stand up but lost her balance and only John grabbing her arms kept her steady. "We should've called the police the minute he admitted what he did. We owe her that."

"I don't think you'll find any policeman who'll listen to the sixty-year-old accusations of rape against an old man."

"Why not?"

"Because they all thing she's already dead, for one, and since he didn't murder her it's going to be a victimless crime to them."

"But she's his victim."

"I know." John soothed, "I know and we're going to find out what happened to her. If she's still alive we can make a case for it but for right now we've not got anything."

Anna met his eyes and then nodded. "You're right."

"Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine in a moment."

John managed a laugh, "You said that minute ago and I don't think it's true."

"Don't you?"

"There's a difference between wanting to punch someone's dentures through the back of their throat and wanting to tear out that same throat with your bare hands." John pointed between them. "I'm the former and you're the latter, in case that's not clear."

Anna took a deep breath, "It just brought up horrible memories."

"Can I ask what those are?"

"When I was thirteen I was in a bad place. I was the same age as Averi, when she died, and I started to get nervous. I thought I had what she had and the stress drove me to anorexia for a bit."

"You must've been so frightened."

Anna nodded. "My parents sent me to a counselor, who was also a Reverend for a youth group with the local church, because they'd heard about his success rates with kids and it worked for awhile."

"Something happened?"

"There was a retreat and we all went to these cabins for a week. He…" Anna swallowed, "He assaulted me. I didn't tell anyone because I was confused and scared and I didn't know what to do. And it continued into our sessions."

"Did your parents notice?"

"They saw I was reverting and they came to him about it. He said it was nothing, that I'd pull out of it but when my Mum confronted me I told them the truth."

"Did they believe you?"

"I was lucky." Anna's smile flitted briefly across her face. "My parents weren't overly religious and they didn't really trust religion so they did something. Found out he'd done it to other children and they got a case against him."

"What happened to the case?"

"He got off on a technicality and then moved to France." Anna shrugged, "The justice of this world's pretty imperfect."

"Yes it is." John sat back, unable to ignore the shooting pains in his leg. "Is there more to the story?"

"Not that I know of. I found another counselor and she helped me through it. She's also the woman who helped me find my relationship with God again. Said I shouldn't let the actions of one evil man ruin something that could be a comfort when all else failed." Anna closed her eyes, the tears a bit different now. "She was right."

"What happened to her?"

"Mrs. Hughes? She married a lovely man and moved to Scotland. They own a little bed and breakfast up there." Anna put her hands to her legs and pushed herself to stand. "Sorry about this little detour."

"I'm not." John got to his feet, wincing as his leg seized a moment. "Give me a minute please."

"What is it?"

"Just some nerve damage. It works up occasionally but it'll be alright in a moment."

"I'm sorry," Anna moved to help him. "It's all my fault."

"No," John shushed her. "This is not your fault. It was my pleasure to do what I could for you."

"You're probably the first man to ever say that to me." Anna helped John to the car, his limp disappearing when they got there as the muscles settled.

"Then I pity whatever men you had before who just didn't get it." John reached for the door but noticed how close Anna still was.

"I pity your wife not getting it either." Anna's fingers found his, slipping over them. "I couldn't imagine losing someone like you."

"The eye of the beholder I guess."

"I guess." Their lips were almost touching but then a dog barked and the both jumped. Anna flustered a moment before walking to the other side of the car. "We'd best get going or we'll not get back before dark and I've got an early morning shift."

"Right." John took a few bracing deep breaths and got into the car with her. "Best to get back."


	8. Experiences

Three Days Later

John pushed back from his laptop, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a way that pushed his glasses up his face. His fingers stayed there, holding tightly until spots of white flashed with the pain behind his eyes, and released to give a deep sigh. It left him so focused on the aches in his body from the chair and the duration of being there he could hardly think of anything else.

A tap on his shoulder startled him and he saw Anna, hands up in surrender, taking a step away. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I thought you were still at work." John pulled for his phone but the screen was dark. "I need to charge this."

"Have you been here since Monday?" Anna took a seat, sighing as the weight left her feet. "I thought I worked too many hours."

"I've been typing it all up and reading this." John held up the leather-bound book. "It's Doctor Bates's journal."

"Good reading?"

"Better than I expected but his handwriting's atrocious."

Anna picked the book from his hands, "It's not that bad. I can make all of this out. It's not artistic in any way but it's not bad." She paused, her eyes narrowing playfully. "I thought you were good with reading handwriting."

"This is doctorial scrawl." John pushed back in his chair, saving everything on his laptop before closing the lid and hearing the sigh of relief from the fans. "I'm good with cursive, furious scribbles, a bit of old English, and one or two romance languages, but not this. It's chicken scratch."

"It is not." Anna tapped her finger on the open page, "This is the writing of the hurried but intelligent."

"Then I'll need your expertise with that." John gestured to his laptop. "Once this gets some rest I'll finish it and then we'll hopefully have a bit more of the story in regards to Ms. Anna Bancroft."

Anna settled back on her chair, her arm over the high back as she sat sideways on it. "What do you think happened to her?"

"I don't want to speculate since all of my theories have a line of logic behind them."

"But if you had to…"

John blew out, running a hand through his hair. He caught a glimpse of it in the microwave and almost shuddered at how it stood up on its own. "I need a shower."

"We both do." Anna nodded at the journal again, "But now you're just dodging the question and that's not fair."

"No, it's not." John cracked his neck, "Part of me wants to think that her story ends with a ride into the sunset with someone who rescued her from that horrible place."

"But that's not what you think?"

John shook his head, "Experience and statistics say she probably died in there or was transferred to another hospital and the records were lost in the shuffle or are moldering away in some basement somewhere, illegible and not on anyone's mind because they've got a hundred other things to deal with." He shrugged, "It's no insult to archival staff but we've got a hospital in this country that's been running for four hundred years and you can bet your ass there've been people who went in and never came out or people who simply vanished."

"What's your gut tell you?"

He blinked at her, "You're asking me about what my gut says?"

"Why not?"

"Aren't you supposed to be all about the science of it, the logic, and then tell me never to trust feelings or something?"

"If we were in a televised serial or a dramatic movie but since I'm a human being with feelings, no." Anna grabbed for the journal, turning the pages in her hands as she stared at the words there. "Something about this tells me we've got a happy end to it."

"You think so?"

"I'm inclined to believe in the best… even when the world tells me that's foolish." Anna put the journal back and stood, "Now, I'm going to shower first since you've got a mess to clean here and then it's all yours."

"Are you sleeping for a week too?"

"I think that depends on whether or not our new attending can manage the whole place by herself." Anna shrugged, "Gwen's got her heart in the right place and she's got a good head nurse helping her so she'll be fine. Isobel Crawley's the best there is so I wouldn't worry too much about either of them."

"Crawley?" John frowned, "No relation to-"

"Mother-in-law." Anna shook her head, "From what I've heard, they've an awkward relationship."

"After her husband's death, if I remember her story correctly."

"I've never asked but if families are anything to go by then the disagreement's got something to do with child-rearing practices." Anna stood up, stretching, "I'll get on with that shower then. Try to leave you some hot water."

"That'd be very kind of you." John tried to organize his papers and notes, only just catching sight of Anna in the doorway. "Sorry, was there something else?"

"Well," Anna bit at her lip, "You could join me. Conserve water that way."

John swallowed, forcing his throat to work. "I don't think it works that way."

"Are you sure?"

"I've… I can't say I've had much experience in that direction given my sexual experience was rather tame in general, but I did try it once in a bath and I'm convinced there's more water spilled then actually conserved."

"In this case it all splashes and goes down the drain." Anna shrugged, "Besides, my tub's not big enough for two anyway."

"For as flattered and interested as I am in the prospect of seeing you in the shower, I'm going to decline this time." John gestured to the table. "Got a mess to clean up and I'd better do it now or I'll never get to it."

"Suit yourself." Anna slapped the wall with the flat of her hand and took the stairs to the second level of her house.

John sat back in his chair, shaking his head. "You're an idiot John."

He reached for his things, stacking important papers in order and filing those they needed to return to the archives back in the box. His hand rested on the medical file before comparing its contents to the photocopied papers. Once sure they were all copied, down to the tiniest scrap of paper in the old file, he tucked it in with the rest of the files and closed the box.

Carrying it out to his rental, John popped the boot and just finished stuffing the box in the space when his phone rang. He wrestled it from his pocket as he closed the boot with a snap. Raising an eyebrow at the unknown number, John answered. "Hello?"

"Is this John Bates?"

He stopped, the voice on the other end sounding hesitant. "Yes. May I ask who this is?"

"My name is Edith Pelham and I think I have information you're looking for."

John turned on the spot, holding his phone to his ear. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

"I was a patient at the same hospital as Anna Bancroft, in the sixties, and I know a bit about her story. I think I'd like to tell it to you."

"How'd you know I was looking into the story of Anna Bancroft?"

"I was contacted yesterday by a Father Alex Green. He was the parish pastor in those days and made frequent visits to the hospital."

John ground his teeth, "Was he your priest?"

"No, I had a Father Travis but he's long dead now." The woman on the other end of the line coughed. "If it's convenient for you, I'd like to tell you what I know."

"Could you first tell me why Father Green would contact you?"

"I suspect we've all got the demons we wish to slay before our bodies take their places in the fields of final rest."

"I'd say we do."

"I live in Downton, if that's convenient for you."

"More than." John checked his watch and then squinted toward Anna's house. "I hope you don't mean this evening."

"Of course not." Ms. Pelham's voice laughed, "I've got my great-grandchildren for a visit but I didn't want to let this lie too long. I hope tomorrow's a good time."

"Say one o'clock?"

"Perfect." There was a pause on the line. "I hope you understand, Mr. Bates, that there's always more sides to the story. This won't be a simple tale for me to tell."

"I'm honored you'll tell it to me, Ms. Pelham."

"It's Mrs. Pelham."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't-"

"It's quite alright, Mr. Bates. Bertie's been dead for almost a decade now but… it's still nice to know we were together."

"I'm sure it's beautiful." John waited a beat, "Is it too much to ask if you know how to send a text, Mrs. Pelham?"

"Not at all. I'll get one of my grandchildren to type out the address and send it to you." She took a breath, "I'm looking forward to sharing my story with someone."

"And, again, I'm honored it can be me." John smiled, leaning on the car.

"I've read some of your articles and I feel you could give my story the justice it deserves."

"I'll do my best."

"Thank you, Mr. Bates, and have a good evening."

"You too Mrs. Pelham."

The call ended and John hurried back into the house. He formed rough piles of the rest of his things and hurried up the stairs. He rapped his knuckles on the closed bathroom door. "Anna? Anna? I've got good news. Anna?"

"No need to shout," He turned to see Anna coming out of her room, tying back her wet hair into a messy bun. "What's got the fire lit under your ass?"

"Edith Pelham."

Anna shook her head, "Can't say I recognize the name. Should I?"

"She was one of the women at the asylum at the same time as Anna Bancroft and she wants to talk about her."

"Is this woman telepathic?"

John shook his head, "She said she received a call from Father Green and he passed on my information."

"You left your information with that bastard?"

"I left it with his granddaughter because she wants to give some familial apologies if we find a grave." John held up his phone, "But this woman's got details for us."

"I thought that was what Doctor Bates's journal was for."

"Always have more than one source, first rule of writing."

Anna set her shoulder on the wall, "I was always curious about that whole 'source' rule. Say your original source lied about something but the first guy to write it down took it as fact. Then everyone else who referenced him would think it was fact too and now we have a 'fact' that's actually a lie."

"I've thought about that and it's the risk but, in this case, I think we can avoid it."

"I'd still like to read what Doctor Bates has to say." Anna slid past John in the hall, "Maybe he's got some dirty memories he'd share with us."

"Are you always this flirtatious?" John's hand caught hers and Anna stopped at the edge of the stairs to stand even with him.

"Most days." She looked up at him, her fingers pushing aside a bit of hair from his forehead. "I'll be honest, it's a bit less overt with you."

"This is your version of covert?"

Anna smiled with the lift of her shoulder. "This is how I cope with the fact that I think you're not very interested in me."

She went to move but John grabbed her shoulders. Controlling the force of his motion, he put her against the wall and then crowded her there. Taking one second to look at her dilated eyes, John lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.

His hands shifted from her shoulders to her hips, holding just tightly enough to keep them both steady, and went to pull away. But Anna's hands flew up to hold him steady. One furrowed through his hair, clutching close, and the other gripped at the back of John's neck. Her mouth took his again as she turned her head sideways just enough to deepen their kiss.

John waited until she broke it this time. Their foreheads rested together, Anna's hands coming down from their positions to rest flat on his chest, and they breathed in unison. After a moment she pushed him back.

"That answers a few questions."

"Which ones?"

"First, if you liked me."

John grinned, "That's a resounding 'yes'."

Anna's smiled widened, "A very agreeable 'yes' indeed."

"Then what other questions?"

"The second one," Anna shoved him toward the bathroom, "Whether or not you needed to shower alone."

"Wait," John caught himself in the doorway, "What?"

"As much as I wish I could've had my way with you in the shower, you need to lather up with the body scrub and get whatever funk you have wafting in a fug around you off."

"I'll have you know this is a direct result of my focus."

"It's no excuse not to be clean." Anna pointed to the shower, "Wash off and then we'll see if we get a round two for kisses yes?"

"I look forward to it." John went for another kiss but Anna dodged him. "Spoilsport."

"Shower. Now."

John went into the bathroom, laughing to himself as he shut the door.

As it happened they did kiss again that night, across the threshold of Anna's room. Her hand crunched in his pajama shirt but eventually released him. Even in the dim light John could see the darkness in her eyes and heard the unmistakable hitch in her breathing.

"If you're not ready-"

"I think I was ready to shag you the moment you came through my door and gave me back my sister's book." Anna chuckled, "But I don't want it to be just a shag when we do it."

"Please say you're not about to use the term 'making love' because I hate that phrase and everything that goes with it."

"I wasn't, because it's about as disturbing to me as the word 'moist'," They both shuddered in unison, "But I do want it to be more than the kind of hookups I've had in the past with guys at bars or social functions."

"Me too." John risked a finger to her hair, brushing back a strand that escaped her bun. "And I think we're both a little… overwrought for it at the moment."

"Yes we are." Anna took a deep breath, "You're going to talk to Mrs. Pelham tomorrow?"

"You want to come?"

"Of course I do but I've got a shift to work." Anna cringed. "Then I'm off for a whole three days and we can read that journal."

John smiled, "Thank you."

Her brow furrowed, "For what?"

"For doing this with me. I know it's not easy for you and you've got a job and it's… I'm just grateful you want to be a part of this."

Anna smiled, "Me too. It's exactly what Averi thought it would be."

"It is, isn't it?" John nodded toward Anna's room. "I won't keep you any longer."

"John…" Her fingers trailed down his shirt, "Would you sleep with me."

"I thought-"

"Not sex," Anna shook her head, "I mean just sleep with me."

"Of course." John held up a hand, "I warn you though, I do snore occasionally and I might kick."

"You don't know?"

"It's been awhile since I shared a bed so I can't say I've had many comments on it."

"I'll make sure to show you the bruises if you have a problem with it." Anna led him into the room and pointed to the bed. "I take that side, if you don't mind."

"Can't say I've got a preference." John walked to his side and pulled back the covers until he only had the sheet, pulling that over himself. At Anna's snort he looked up at her, "What?"

"Trying to prove how manly you are by all the blankets you don't need?"

"I run hotter and too many blankets suffocate me." He set the pillows against the headboard and arranged himself. "Besides, I've heard the horror stories of blanket stealing women."

"Like you, it's been awhile since I shared a bed so I don't know either." Anna settled in on her side, cozying in the blankets before taking a tentative scoot towards him. "I will say, my parents used to call me a sloth."

"You don't strike me as the lazy type."

"Not that." Anna flicked off the weak bedside lamp, "It's because I cling in my sleep. I hope you like cuddling."

"I'm sturdy so I think I can handle it." John closed his eyes, breathing deeply. "Just don't poke at me and we'll be fine."

"I don't shift much in my sleep." She finally settled, her head resting just off his shoulder and one of her hands close enough to brush his fingers. "Goodnight John."

"Goodnight Anna."

John could not say which part of the night he enjoyed more. The fact that Anna eventually moved so close she was sleeping on him. Or the dream that had her kissing him awake.

Except, his mind tried to unfog from sleep as sensations tingled from his face, it was not a dream. Her lips really were on his and she was kissing him awake. John blinked, forcing his mind into action much earlier than he intended and leaving synapses misfiring to confuse him. But the image of Anna laying kisses over his skin was no dream and his mind latched onto that reality.

His hand cupped the side of her face and he turned into her next kiss. It surprised her so much she broke it and John froze. His mouth moved and eventually gathered enough brainpower to speak.

"I hope you're not kissing me in your sleep."

"No," Anna shook her head, "You're just… you're a sound sleeper and it ruined my plans a little having you wake up so soon."

"Please tell me those plans included your moving those kisses a little farther south."

"Might've done." Anna slid her tongue over her exposed teeth. "I thought it'd help you wake up faster."

"In most situations, yes, but I think I'd rather make out with you before you give me a blow job." John paused, "If it's all the same to you."

"I like how old fashioned you are." Anna grinned, lowering her lips toward him again, "What else would you rather?"

"I'd rather." John carefully manipulated them so Anna was on her back and he was above her. "Kiss over your whole body until you're about as mobile as gelatin before I decide to kiss a little farther south myself."

"I like the sound of that offer." Anna rose up just enough to kiss him. "But I think it's bit unfair for you."

"You already kissed me awake."

"But-"

John put a finger to her lips, "If you want, there's always time for it later. I don't intend this to be the one and only time we get a chance to do this."

Anna's whole body visibly relaxed, "Despite the fact you live in London and we both have rather unforgiving schedules and everything else in between?"

"We're adults and we'll work it out." John kissed under her chin, "If you want."

"All indicated to the affirmative on that score." Anna put her hands to her shirt but John stopped her. "I'm trying to help."

"And there's an art to this I think your other… paramours forgot in their excitement to get their rocks off."

"Is there?" Anna settled back, her hand reaching over her head to fumble in her drawer a moment. When she pulled out the foil package John frowned and leaned over to find another one. She laughed, "Someone's confident."

"I may not've had sex in awhile but I have seen myself naked and size isn't something directly related to activity." John set both packages on the bedside table. "Are you up for this?"

"It's why I wanted you to sleep with me."

John frowned, "So you could seduce me in the morning?"

"So I could see if I still wanted to seduce you in the morning." Anna paused, "You're not offended are you?"

"That a beautiful woman wants me for sex? What idiot gets offended by that?" John dipped to nip at her jaw. "I think, however, that talking is strictly unnecessary from this point onward."

Anna did not respond as John kissed over her face the way she kissed over his. His fingers stroked and caressed the skin of her midriff, working upward to push her shirt out of his path. His fingers stuttered when they brushed at her breasts but the sighs Anna let out in concert with those motions had John continuing.

She writhed and eventually risked a moan or two before John whipped the shirt over her head. Anna's hands, tentative at first as if her touching him was also a moratorium like talking, tucked under his shirt and worked over the skin of his chest and dug into the hair there. John wrestled the fabric over his head and Anna giggled when he had to rear up to finally rip himself free. She paid for it with the cries of pleasure she emitted when John's focus on her breasts led his tongue and teeth to take part in the excitement.

As promised, he kissed over every inch of exposed skin, turning to the insides of her elbows when she grappled for handholds on his body. He responded to her arched back when she pressed her breasts into the mouth and suckled madly until Anna sobbed at the sensation. And when he moved lower, teasing his tongue into the dip of her navel, her fingers clawed at his scalp to try and release the tension he built in her body.

Never one for fashion, John prayed to whatever god managed the loose fitting men's pajama trousers as he found himself hardening to pain-tipped proportions. The sounds Anna made reverberated off the walls of her room and filled his ears like the rushing blood drowning out everything else. Even the scrape of their trousers against one another was nothing when John tucked his fingers under the elastic band and drew them down her legs.

The knickers he could barely see in the dim light exposed the darkening patch to his gaze. John worked his own trousers free, determined to act the gentleman and demonstrate equality of the sexes, and started kissing from her ankles up. Anna flailed a bit and John managed to avoid an abrupt end to the enterprise by dodging her knee when her leg clinched upward. Laying unconscious on her floor was not how he wanted this experience to live in his memory.

Teething at the inside of her thighs, John dragged a finger over her and made sure to bring the material of her knickers with it. Anna groaned, the line of her neck clear as she dug her head back into her pillow. John did it again, this time kissing to the line and then slipping his tongue under the elastic.

Anna almost shrieked at this and John battled the temptation to keep her on edge for a bit longer. But prudence and a consciousness about time management nagged the back of his mind. There were no clocks in the immediate vicinity but the lightening of the sky meant they were not in a position to keep one another here forever. Much as he wanted to.

John tucked his finger under her knickers and tried to remove them at the same time as his own. There was a bit more fumbling but Anna was too far along to care and he found her far too intriguing to mind. With a kiss over her breasts again, John glided his fingers between her folds.

Her fingers clutched and clung to the sheets under her, crinkling the fabric and straining to hold herself steady as he drove her over the edge. John kissed back down in that direction, paying special attention to her thus far neglected clit, and drove her to the edge with her sounds as the only map he needed. One finger, and then another, slipped into her while the others stroked in time to the attentions of his mouth, tongue, and teeth on her bundle of nerves. And the combination was enough to send Anna screaming into her climax as it almost wrung the blood from John's fingers.

All the same, he withdrew slowly, taking special care to massage her quivering muscles and leave her sated before reaching over her head for the right packet. He ripped it with his teeth, sliding it over himself with a grimace as his own hand proved enough to leave him twitching with anticipation and far too much build up without adequate release, and settled back between her legs. One of his hands grasped her thigh and he settled just at her entrance but held there.

It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to simply press forward. And when Anna's eyes met his, he broke his earlier rule. "Are you ready?"

"Hell yes."

John thrust forward.

It was the most exquisite torture he could imagine. The hot, wet, silken glove encasing him securely before clenching around him felt at once heavenly and hellish. He wanted to move. He wanted to stay still. He wanted to pound into her. He wanted to go as slowly as possible to extend this until the sun exploded. He… he could not even think. His brain stopped working and John's body reverted to primal instinct.

He started slow, working himself to the very edge before sliding back in. His hands smoothed her skin, tried to ease the shaking tremor of her body, and kiss at the parts of her he could reach without getting sloppy. But when Anna pulled her leg higher, wrapping it over his hip to sink him deeper, John lost all control.

The rutting drives had them moving over the bed, shaking the frame more than he thought possible, and squeaking obnoxiously as he grunted in time with her moans. Her nails raked down his back and fueled his frenetic motions. And when he risked a look down at them the sight of his erection sinking into the glistening of her body seared into his brain.

Plunging madly, and with all hope of finesse or elegance lost, John scrambled to bring about an end to the rising shriek to Anna's voice. His fingers slipped and scuttled over her nerves, hitting himself in the process to leave his jaw gritted so tightly he thought he might break teeth, to send her over the edge before he went there himself. And when her heel dug into his ass, joined a moment later by her nails, he bit down at the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

Anna cried out, more loudly this time, and the gush took John over the edge as well. He finished and stuttered out the last of his movements, struggling to keep himself from collapsing on her in the rush of sizzling nerves and crackling completion. But he got to the side and managed the condom before laying back down.

Her laugh drew his attention and John frowned, "Not the normal response."

"I thought you said you hadn't done it in awhile."

"I haven't but I don't remember anyone laughing when it was over." John thought a moment, "Some crying and a few comments about disappointment but never laughing."

"It's nothing to worry your ego over." Anna batted blindly at his arm, "It's more a way to release nervous energy."

"You've still got energy?"

"Not much." Anna sighed, "But I would very much like to do that again."

"You would?" John adjusted, going on one arm to lay sideways and face her. "How would you want to do it again?"

"Every which way and all the time if I could." Anna leaned forward enough to kiss him. "But I've got a job and so do you."

"How long until you've got to go to it?"

Anna reached for her phone and checked it. "A bit. Enough time to cuddle up and fall asleep again if you'd like."

"I'd like it very much." John situated himself and then Anna got comfortable around him. "The last time I did this… or the last few times, I guess, there wasn't much cuddling involved."

"More fool them." Anna idly stroked her fingers over his chest. "You're a good cuddler."

"Am I?"

"You're pliable but not clingy. It's the perfect combination. Like a body pillow."

"Thanks very much."

"You're welcome." Anna teased past his mock indignation and settled again. "I'm… I'm glad I didn't wait too long."

"Me too." John kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent there before musing aloud, "Does this mean we're an item?"

"What?"

"I don't usually sleep with the people who let me stay in their homes." John shrugged his unoccupied shoulder. "That doesn't happen often anyway but this is the first time this has happened to me so I'm a bit curious if there's more to what we are now than lodger and generous patron."

"I'd say there is." Anna hugged closer to him, "I think there always was."

"So you're my girlfriend?"

"Romantic acquaintance."

John smiled, kissing her forehead and leaning back into the pillow. "I'll take that definition."


	9. Testimonials

John heard the muffled curse and cracked his eyes to see Anna hopping on one foot while shoving her foot into a shoe with one hand as the other held a phone to her ear. "No, I told everyone Gwen was handling it for me. Doctor Dawson is the attending and that means she's in charge. No… I understand that but she should've gotten this call. What do you mean he wasn't available? How… Fine, Fine! I'm on my way."

She ended the call and jumped when she turned to see John sitting up in bed. "Shit, sorry, you surprised me."

"I thought you were sleeping for a week."

"Not that you helped with that." Anna teased, bending down to grab her other shoe and get it over her foot. "But that was the intention. Other than the few hours I was putting in this morning to discuss some op prep, like I mentioned."

"I remember." John flicked his eyes to the floor and reached for his boxers before trying to slip them on as quickly as possible.

Anna just laughed, "You do know that I saw you last night right?"

"I thought that was this morning."

"Whenever it was." Anna bent at the waist to gather all her hair and worked an elastic around it to tie it tightly into a ponytail. "What matters is that I've already seen you naked so I hope you're not trying an obnoxious preservation of modesty."

"Just the regular preservation." John stood up, picking his clothes up off her floor. "Will you still be available to come at one then?"

"Text me at noon and I'll give you a clearer picture then." Anna heaved an exasperated sigh as she looked down at her shirt to find a stain and whipped it over her head to find another. "This is… I wasn't going to go in for another hour."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Lend me a shirt?" Anna shut the drawer with an echoing clunk. "I've not done my washing in days."

"You need a maid."

"Or a nurse." Anna took John's pajama shirt. "I'll say that ManU's not my favorite team but this'll do."

"You don't bleed red?"

"I don't bleed anything in that regard. I don't follow football really unless it's the World Cup and then I'm cheering on England until they inevitably choke in the playoffs."

"Hey, they made it to the semifinals this year."

"Even blind squirrels find nuts occasionally." Anna pulled the loose shirt tight and tied a knot with the material to keep it at her waist. "And suddenly I feel back into the nineties."

"That was an okay decade."

"Please don't get nostalgic about chokers or the Backstreet Boys."

"I was all over slap bracelets me." John joked, following Anna toward the bathroom as she finished the bare essentials of her process. "But I do have a serious question."

"What?" Anna slipped past him, taking the stairs to get her things.

"Do you regret it?"

Anna stopped for the first time that morning, turning to him with a broad smile. Walking the distance between them, Anna put a hand on the back of his neck and kissed him as thoroughly as anyone needed to wake up. He broke the kiss when his reaction raised its head, literally, but Anna just laughed.

"The answer to your question, is hell no." She grabbed her purse, putting it over her shoulder to jangle her keys. "I'll see you at noon."

The door shut and John turned to stare at the pajama trousers bunched in his hands. He took a little turn to inspect the rest of the visible house and snorted to himself. It took less time than he thought, between the shower and the cleaning, to get Anna's house looking as if someone lived there with any skill at keeping it tidy. And by the time he got into his car, it almost felt like he was leaving home for a day at work.

He drove to the archives and parked his car in the space as close to the door as he could manage. A pop of the boot allowed him to reach for the box there and he pulled it clear to carry to the door. Resting it between his knee and the wall, John rapped his knuckles on a pane of glass and a few moments later Ms. Baxter unlocked the door to allow him inside.

"A return on your lend." John rested the box on her desk. "I think everything's in the same condition except for a few fingerprints but it should all be alright."

"Honestly I'm just grateful someone's got an interest in something like this." Ms. Baxter inspected the box. "And someone as prolific and acclaimed as yourself might bring some light to this endeavor."

"It got my editor to agree to this search." John shook his head, "In a world concerned with how fast they can get something, research reporting like this isn't a thing they appreciate."

"Sometimes I wonder if it'd be best for us to lose some technological advancement so we can discover the pleasure of human relationships again." Ms. Baxter shrugged, "But could you tell Ms. Smith how grateful we are for her donation."

"Donation?"

"She's donated the letters her sister had in her possession. They'll be the headline of the exhibit on Violet Crawley's life and we're giving Averi Smith a portion of the exhibit too. It's our connection to the story you're writing."

"That's…" John let out a nervous laugh, shoving a hand through his hair. "No pressure or anything."

"I'm sorry." Ms. Baxter winced, "It's just… I think we're so concerned as a culture with the next thing we forget the old and this is a chance to remind people how important our history is."

"And get them to start paying fifty quid to swab their mouth and find out the percentage of them that's really French?" John sniggered and Ms. Baxter laughed with him.

"I guess." She glanced over his shoulder and John turned to see a balding man waving through the door. "I forgot, Mr. Moseley was coming in to help with some of our foreign language translations."

"Translations?" John half-spun to move out of Ms. Baxter's way.

She opened the door to allow the man in and John raised his eyebrows a moment at the jumpy man. He pulled at his cardigan and ran a hand over his head before extending that same hand to John. "Joseph Moseley, translator, interpreter, and-"

"Butler at Downton Abbey, I remember."

"Oh, right." He tittered, almost giggling for nervousness that had John biting on his jaw to keep his laughter to himself. "I forgot you met me already. We're in a very different situation now, especially since everyone's talking about you being in town."

"Were they?" John let out a breath, "Guess I need to keep a lower profile."

"I would." He chuckled again and then turned to Ms. Baxter. "Where do you need me to start today?"

"We've got a collection of letters from a Russian man named Ivan Kuragin. I'm hoping you can help us find out what they're all about."

"I'll start setting up then." He nodded at John and proceeded into the archive.

John nodded after him, "How long have you two been-"

"We're not." Ms. Baxter responded in a hurry and John shoved his hands in his pockets for something to do.

"I'm sorry. I assumed, based on his actions and-"

"He's lovely but we're not…" Ms. Baxter bit at her lip, looking back toward where Mr. Moseley disappeared.

"Right." John jerked a thumb at the box, "That's heavy so why don't I carry it back so you can get it all set up in here."

"Thank you, Mr. Bates."

John grabbed the box and followed Mr. Moseley's path into the archive. Setting it on a table near where he and Anna worked a few days before, he edged over to the table where Mr. Moseley set up his things. A knock on the table roused the man, who fumbled the dictionaries in his hand but caught them before they hit the ground.

"Mr. Bates?" Mr. Moseley looked around, as if expecting Ms. Baxter to be with him. "How can I help you?"

"It's more about how you help yourself." John pointed back toward the entrance. "Take that woman to a nice dinner."

"Phyllis?" Mr. Moseley swallowed so hard his Adam's apple bobbed from his chin to his collar. "She'd never want to-"

"She'd very much want to and she wants you to ask her." John shrugged, "I'm no expert on relationships but I've seen enough people to know how this works. She's got eyes for you and it's time to find your courage for it."

"I don't know how to-"

"Just ask her on a date like you'd ask her for reference material. It's the same language structure." John checked his watch. "I've got another appointment but I do wish you luck Mr. Moseley."

"Thank you, Mr. Bates." He extended his hand again and John took it quickly.

"My pleasure." He passed Ms. Baxter on his way out of the archives and climbed into his rental car to drive to the hospital.

Parking was a nightmare but he managed it and finally got inside the building. A harassed and frazzled pair of nurses looked him up and down with such venom in their eyes John immediately threw his hands into the air and shook his head. "I'm just here to see Anna Smith."

"You don't look young enough to be her patient." The older woman with a long face furrowed her brow. "If you're got complaints we've an office for that."

"No, I'm here on… more personal business. We've got an appointment."

John thought he said those words as quietly as possible but no less than six nurses, at least two doctors, and five interns stopped and turned to him. He blinked, eyeing the crowd, and then leaned over the counter toward the first nurse. "Do you think you could tell me where she is?"

"She's in pediatrics." A red-headed woman signed at the bottom of a page and handed the file over to the first nurse behind the desk. "You must be Mr. Bates."

"Most days." John extended a hand but the woman shook her head.

"Not after the emergency surgery I had this morning I think." She tapped her coat, "I'm Doctor Dawson but you can call me Gwen."

"Nice to meet you Gwen." John continued eyeing the crowd waiting with baited breath for whatever was happening. "Why are they all staring?"

"Doctor Smith's not known for her personal life and I think they all assume you're here to help her with a personal appointment."

"She's actually helping me with an interview and-" The audible groans and mutters permeated the room as the crowd dispersed. "Did I say something wrong?"

"They think she's up for another award or something if you're here." Gwen motioned to him, "Follow me and I'll take you to her."

"Thank you." John followed her down the maze of hallways. "And what awards?"

"I'm sure Anna's too shy to tell you this, since I had to wring it out of her when I found the box she keeps in the closet of her office, but Anna's a great pediatric doctor. She's big on charity boards and fundraising. The last three years she's been the top earner for her department and the whole hospital. She just can't help but be good at her job. And since she's also a pediatric surgeon she's fully qualified for a number of daring procedures on children. They flew her to Brazil once to save this child with a failing lung and she performed the operation using a pen light, a machete, duct tape, and some chewing gum."

"Not that I doubt Doctor Smith's in possession of considerable skill, but that seems far-fetched."

"I'm joking about the last bit." Gwen opened another door. "She didn't need the gum for anything but to keep the children relaxed when the meds wore off."

They walked a bit farther and Gwen knocked the top of another nurse's station. "Where's Doctor Smith?"

"Checking on little Sybbie Branson." The man processed a file, eyes barely acknowledging John. "But if she finished with that then she's in the terminal ward playing with the kids."

"Right," Gwen slapped her forehead, "I forgot."

"Who's your friend?" The man raised an eyebrow at John, the carefully trimmed mustache on his upper lip twitching as he did so.

"He's looking for Doctor Smith, John," Gwen leaned over to swat the man. "Stop being jealous of strangers."

"He's more attractive and he's not carting a child." The other John defended and John shrugged.

"Sorry."

"Just tell me you're not interested in Doctor Dawson here."

"That's none of your business." Gwen hissed and then turned to John. "Don't listen to him. You don't have to say a thing."

"It's fine." John pointed to Gwen, "She's beautiful, I won't deny that, and I've never seen such gorgeously fiery hair but she's not my type."

"Petite blondes is it?"

"That's a rather recent development but probably." John offered his hand to the man. "Good luck if you're going for this one. She seems feisty."

"I am feisty." Gwen leveled a finger at the other John. "We're not done with this conversation John Harding."

"I hope not." He winked and returned to his work as Gwen guided John to the end of the ward and a door marked 'Terminal Care Unit'.

"I don't like going in here." Gwen knocked on the door and stopped John when he tried to enter. "You'd have to go through a prep process and she'll be out in a minute. We'll wait by the observation window."

They entered a room to the side and John reflexively grabbed at his heart at the sight. Anna, dressed in a more flexible and versatile HAZMAT suit than he ever used or say, knelt on the floor playing with some of the children. For those in wheelchairs she involved them in the games as much as she could and eventually walked to those children in their beds to read to them or even sing a few bars of familiar songs so they laughed and giggled.

This Anna was not like the ones he had seen. She had a bit of the overtly flirty Anna, the one not afraid of what she wanted, but it also bore signs of the constrained part of her by keeping just the amount of energy the children before her needed. And then there was an edge to her, something John had yet to see. In a moment, when he watched the flicker of dark sadness pass over her eyes, he realized it was the joy she wanted to share with Averi but her sister was not there… and had not been in some time.

Eventually a door hissed and Anna came out, removing the pieces of her suit to show her green scrubs. She nodded at Gwen and then grinned at John. "You're a bit early."

"Not something most women say with a smile."

"In this case I can." Anna turned to Gwen, "Could you get those scans from this morning on my desk for initial review and I'll leave you the details?"

"Yes ma'am." Gwen saluted and nudged John before vanishing.

Anna grabbed a white coat off a hook ad worked her hands into it. "Did you get bored sitting at home?"

"Very but I'm here to see if you're still available for Mrs. Pelham's interview at one."

Anna cringed, "We had three kids come in with skull fractures from an accident at a merry-go-round. I can't leave yet because Gwen's not trained for the surgeries we might need to do today."

"I just wanted to check." John smiled at her and then bit his lip. "Though…"

"Though what?"

"I might've made the mistake of saying I had a personal appointment with you and then all the staff thought-"

"Probably that I was pregnant." Anna shrugged, "They've all got a pool going on my inevitable spinsterhood."

"Well, now they think you're getting an award."

"Another paperweight. How exciting." Anna led him away from the TCU. "But they left you alone?"

"Yeah." John looked at the floor, his hands deep in his pockets. It took Anna's hand on his arm to turn his body and force him to look at her.

"What else?"

"You'll think it's creepy, ridiculous, and moving far too quickly for you if I tell you what I'm thinking."

"Says the man to the woman who invited a perfect stranger to stay in her house and then did all she could to seduce him." Anna folded her arms over her chest, "Try me."

"Okay," john pointed back toward the TCU. "I watched you with those kids and I realized… I just thought, 'I want kids'."

"Did you want kids before?"

"Not with my ex-wife and she didn't want kids in the first place so we dodged a bullet."

"But you want children." Anna leaned back against the wall. "Flattered as I might be, I'm not for surrogacy."

"No, me either." John stopped, "I realized if I wanted children, really wanted a family with children involved it'd have to be… with you."

"Oh," Anna's eyebrows rose before she found her voice. "You'd have to be house mother because my job works insane hours and-"

"Don't make fun."

"Alright," Anna held up her hands. "I can't say I've thought about children in that context given that all the children I work with day-to-day are either injured or dying."

"So you wouldn't want kids?"

"I never said that," Anna stopped him, smiling, "What I can say, is that I'd be willing to take a go with children with you, if that opportunity ever presented itself in the future."

"You would?"

"You seem like impeccable husband and father material." Anna put a hand on his. "But we've only just met and thinking about children, at this stage, feels a little fast."

"So you wouldn't want children right now?"

"I'm working and you've got a one o' clock meeting so there's no time for us to invest in that idea." Anna shifted her hand up to his arm. "Find out more about Anna Prime and that other John and we'll see about babies… and whatever else fun goes along with seeing about babies."

"I'll take that." John bent to kiss her and then stopped. "Is that too unprofessional?"

"Do it on the cheek and none of the children'll take the mickey out of me for it." She pointed and John kissed right at the spot. But he trapped her finger between his lips and sucked the tip into his mouth a moment before releasing.

Anna let out a sigh, "I've got to get you back in bed sometime soon."

"Good things to those who wait."

"Tease."

"I learned from the best." John walked backwards toward the door, "And I like your idea, by the way."

Anna waved him off. "I'll see you at home."

The drive from the hospital to the address provided for Edith Pelham took less time than John expected and he checked his watch as he pulled outside the house. A fat raindrop hit his windshield and then a steady drizzle pinged and bounced off the car as John parked it. Groaning a bit to himself, John sorted his notes and necessaries into the messenger bag in the passenger seat before turning off the engine.

Using his body to cover the bag, he got out and shivered as the steady drizzle hit the back of his neck and slid droplets down his neck to tingle over his skin. He hurried over the garden path and tried to squeeze his body under the overhang to knock on the door as he shook off the rain. In a moment the door opened and a young woman with beautifully black skin answered to frown up at him.

John waved at her, smiling while pushing spottedly wet hair out of his eyes. "I'm John Bates and I'm looking for Edith Pelham. We're scheduled to meet today."

"Right," The door opened more fully and the girl stepped to the side, "My grandmother's just through here."

"Thank you." He came into the foyer and pointed at his shoes. "Do I take these off or-"

"If you want. You're just in the front parlor so you'll be fine." The woman pointed to the door, "Just through there. She's waiting for you."

John toed off his shoes and pulled his bag closer to check through the contents as the girl opened the door for him. He followed her and blinked at the old woman sitting in a chair near an old fireplace reading a children's book. She snorted to herself and then looked up as the girl called out to her.

"Grandma? I've got John Bates here."

"Oh thank you Jane." Mrs. Pelham set the book to the side and pointed to the chair across from her. "If you'll take some weight off your feet, Mr. Bates."

"Thank you." John settled in the chair and let his bag rest on his lap. "I hope you don't mind if I record this interview."

"I'm almost terrified to hear the sound of my own voice." She laughed, turning to her granddaughter, "Could you get us some tea? I think it's appropriate for those kind of interview."

"Grandma?" Jane looked between her grandmother and John before turning back to her grandmother. "What are you giving an interview for?"

"I'm answering some questions about a grander story." She settled in her chair, turning back to John. "A story about someone who shares your name, young man."

"It's part of what got me interested in this."

"Is it?" Mrs. Pelham laughed, "I'll have you know, I lied when I told you Father Green called me himself."

John blinked, "I'm sorry?"

"Father Green didn't call me yesterday because he isn't aware of the connection we share."

"Then-"

Mrs. Pelham pointed to Jane, "Her girlfriend is Alex Green, on whom I believe you left a deep impression the other day."

"Father Green's granddaughter?" John turned to Jane, "I do apologize for not seeing the connection."

"It doesn't happen often. My mother was a bit of a rebel and found herself a Nigerian man and I'm a bit of a rebel because I found a girl who loved me."

"Jane," Mrs. Pelham grabbed her hand, "I adore your girlfriend and I wish you'd bring her around more often."

"I'm getting tea before this gets weirder than it already is." Jane left the room and Mrs. Pelham turned to John.

"I do apologize for the small deception. I thought you might not believe if I had a slightly less tangible connection."

"I don't care how you got the information, if we're being honest Mrs. Pelham, and the only thing that matters is that we're moving forward with the story you have to tell."

"I'll warn you, Mr. Bates, you may not like what I have to say." She interlaced her fingers and John flicked his glance down to the way those fingers shook. "There's a lot about my story that won't make me look very… sane."

"Given you told me over the phone that you spent some time in the asylum, I'm already aware there was a chance of that." John dug out his laptop and a recorder, setting them up with the little microphone pointed toward Mrs. Pelham. "I wonder, Mrs. Pelham, if you could tell me why you were reading a children's book when I walked in?"

"It was part of the therapy suggested to me when I was at the asylum." She stroked a finger along the spine. "I was there for kidnapping my daughter."

"For kidnapping your daughter?"

Mrs. Pelham nodded, "My parents weren't very proud of the fact I had a daughter out of wedlock but my aunt had helped me deliver the child in Switzerland. I had the child brought back to England and a family near where I lived adopted her. They granted me visitation but, over time, the mother in the family thought I was developing a bit too much of an attachment."

"And she wanted to take your child away?"

"That's the thing, Mr. Bates, she wasn't my child any longer." Mrs. Pelham snorted a bit to herself. "It's an incredible sensation when you recognize the biology of a child, and even their birth certificate, tell you that child is yours but the law says no."

"I can't imagine how difficult that would be."

"Nor did I." Mrs. Pelham sighed, "And my mind couldn't take it. I kidnapped her and tried to run away. Little did I realize I had neither the experience or the wherewithal, in my rather spoiled upbringing, to raise a child. They found us in three days and took the child back before my parents, in an effort to avoid the inevitable scandal, committed me to the asylum."

"What happened to the girl?"

"Marigold Gregson grew up in America, with her family, and contacted me when she was eighteen to meet me for the first time." Mrs. Pelham managed a smile, "She's welcoming her first grandchild within the next week."

"Congratulations."

"Yes… It's quite an achievement." Mrs. Pelham counted a moment, "It'll be my fifth great-grandchild and I'm hoping to live to see many more."

"What about you?" John waited until Mrs. Pelham stopped stroking the children's book. "I'll assume your parents did not leave you in the asylum."

"No, they took me out shortly after Anna Bancroft disappeared."

"In nineteen-sixty-six yes?"

"Yes," Mrs. Pelham nodded. "The main psychiatrist at the hospital, who treated me for a time and is the one to suggest the children's books as my therapy, terminated his employment there shortly before that."

"Do you remember why?"

"Something about an altercation he had with Father Green." Mrs. Pelham shuddered, "I still remember hearing yelling and shouting from his office before Father Green flew out of there. I think Dr. Bates bodily removed him from the premises and didn't allow him back for the remainder of his tenure."

"Which wasn't long?"

"Only three weeks. The board of the hospital, because that's what they insisted they were doing in there, decided that his actions with the patients were enough to give him a warning but the hold Father Green had on the local community had them demanding he be allowed access to the members of his parish still at hospital. Doctor Bates refused and then resigned in outrage when they attempted to circumvent his recommendations about patient health."

"And then Anna Bancroft disappeared?"

"Yes." Mrs. Pelham sighed to herself, "It was the best thing to happen to that woman, if I'm honest."

"Why do you say that?"

"She was tormented by demons in there." Mrs. Pelham waved a hand, possibly in response to the look John could not wipe fast enough from his face. "Not mental demons, she was not insane no matter what her file or anyone else said and Doctor Bates believed that. He knew she wasn't mad. The demons that tormented her were Father Green and one of the nurses."

"How do you know this?"

"I saw what the nurse did to her." Mrs. Pelham shuddered. "Nurse Vera was a nasty bit of work. I've never seen a more horrible woman draw breath and I admit to more than a fraction of glee when she finally got hers."

"How so?"

"Bit the big one when they found out she'd been stealing money from the hospitals where she worked." Mrs. Pelham snorted, "Decided to take her own life by eating a poisoned pie. Good riddance to her."

"And what about Father Green?"

"That one I never saw but one of the male nurses…" Mrs. Pelham smiled, "And my later husband, he saw some of it and told me about it. Asked me to keep an eye on her."

"This male nurse, I'll assume he was Bertie Pelham, your recently deceased husband yes?"

"Yes." Mrs. Pelham turned her ring over her finger. "Bertie was the kindest and most wonderful person I'd ever met. He helped he through the time after my parents took me home, and not only visited me but also wrote me a letter everyday to keep me company."

"When did you marry?"

"Two years later, when I was almost well."

John frowned, "What do you mean, 'almost well'?"

"Because, Mr. Bates, the afflictions of the mind are the kind that are never fully healed. They are overcome or battled daily but they are never beaten." She knocked her knuckle on the book. "It's why I still read these. I dedicate two hours of my day, spread over different times, to orient myself and remind me of my reality."

"How so?"

"Because I put myself in these books to help me recognize what's real and what's not." Mrs. Pelham put her hands back in her lap. "Sometimes, like when I kidnapped my daughter, I forgot what was real and what was not. Doctor Bates helped me realize a way to tell what was real and what was not in a very… groundbreaking treatment."

"Electrotherapy?"

"He never used devices." Mrs. Pelham shook her head. "He only ever spoke to me. He used my own mind as the tool to fight myself. He helped me realize what I could do with my mind to create the truth from the lies I'd told myself."

"He sounds quite intriguing."

"He was." Mrs. Pelham lost her focus a moment, "If I could, I would thank that man face-to-face but I learned he passed away."

"He did?" John made a note of it, "That's… I'm sorry to hear that."

"So was I." Mrs. Pelham shrugged, "But I guess that's what the next life if for. We can use that time to thank all those who helped us before we realized what they did for us."

"Is there anything else you'd want to tell me about Anna Bancroft, Mrs. Pelham?" John played with his pen, rotating it back and forth between his fingers. "Anything about her?"

"She deserved better than the world gave her, when they imprisoned her there. She was the sweetest, kindest, and best of the people I'd ever met." Mrs. Pelham sighed, "If I could find her again, I'd like to thank you too and I hope you do find her."

"She's been missing since nineteen-sixty-six, Mrs. Pelham." John shrugged, "I'm not sure what we'll find about her."

"I don't know if you believe in your gut, Mr. Bates, but I do and inside me there's a deep feeling that says she's not dead. She's not rotting away in a shallow grave. She's alive somewhere and you're the person to find her."

"What makes you so sure I'm going to find her?"

"Because, Mr. Bates, in more than fifty years you're the first person who's looked for her. If you're already looking then she's already half-found."

John smiled, "That's the second time in a very short time I've heard the idea that I should trust more in my gut."

"I thought that's what journalists did."

"Not anymore." John pointed to the recorder, "Anything else?"

"No," She shook her head, "I've said all I can say with the story that I know."

John shut down the recorder, tucking it and his laptop away before standing. He extended a hand to Mrs. Pelham, "Thank you for your time."

"I'm sorry my granddaughter got distracted in making the tea." Mrs. Pelham shuffled in her chair. "And for taking the time to allow me to tell my story. It's been sitting in here for far too long."

She tapped her chest, where her heart was. "I've needed someone to hear it and understand."

"It may surprise you to know, Mrs. Pelham, that I was drawn into this simply by wanting to kill myself but keeping to tradition while doing it."

Mrs. Pelham frowned, "Suicide?"

"Life gets you low and I think people would be interested to hear your story, Mrs. Pelham, because it might tell them their struggles aren't the only struggles out there. More importantly, they might see that they're not doomed to the struggles they're facing."

"Help them know they can fight their mind with their mind, Mr. Bates. If you're to tell them anything."

"I will." John waited, his hand still extended to her, and Mrs. Pelham finally shook. "Thank you for your time."

"It was a pleasure to give."

John headed back into the foyer and went for his shoes as Jane finally appeared, holding a tray in her hands. "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem." John pulled the back of his shoe out enough to get the back of it sitting comfortably on his heel. "I had a lovely talk with your grandmother."

"She's a special person." Jane shrugged, bringing the tray up and down before it settled again. "And she's… she's a fighter."

"Like yourself, I think." John grabbed his bag, "I met your girlfriend and she's a wonderful person. I think you made a good choice there… though that might be none of my business."

"It's not but I'm grateful for your approval all the same." Jane chewed the inside of her cheek, "She believes in you and I think you'll treat this story with all the fairness it deserves."

"Thank you." John peeked out the door, "It's been a pleasure."

He darted to the car, shaking water from his eyes and sighing to himself. After a moment he pulled out his phone and searched something. Putting the car in gear he drove to a nearby church and parked. Risking the rain, he ran into the cemetery and searched the stones until he found the one he needed. Stopping in front of the stone, John knelt down and took a deep breath.

"What kind of man were you?" He whispered to himself, brushing a hand over the well-kempt grave. "What do you have to tell me about Anna Bancroft? Who were you?"

Only the rain answered him and John pulled out his phone to snap a picture of the site. Standing up, John nodded at the grave and walked away from the stone carved with his own name. But the dates marked him as born in nineteen-twenty-six and died two-thousand-ten.

Going back to his car, John checked the picture before tucking his phone away again. Starting up the car he drove back to Anna's house and hurried into the house. He arranged his things, putting the journal close to his laptop, and transcribed the recording of the interview.

When he finished, saving the files and putting them to the side, he finally picked up the journal. Turning to the first page he settled back in the chair and started to read. To read the story of the man who shared his name.


	10. Journals

_April 15, 1965_

 _There's more nerves in me right now than the human body has any right to have. Robert would say I'm being stupid, that "there's no one more qualified than you for this" but he has to say that. He's the one who practically handed this to me._

 _What do I know about asylums?_

 _Nothing, that's the answer to that question. Don't know a damn thing and I'm petrified of doing this wrong. These people are counting on me to heal their relatives, to find medicines for the mind._

 _I'm going to fail._

He capped his pen, slipping it into the inside pocket of his jacket and stood up as the bus stopped. His journal closed in his hands and he hurried to stuff it into the outer pocket of his briefcase before reaching over his head for the case there. The driver nodded at him and then whistled to the boy dozing in the front seat. With a snort and a yelp, the boy was out of the bus faster than the man could limp to the front.

"Pleasure having you aboard Mr. Bates."

"Thank you." Bates shook the man's hand. "It was an adventure in and of itself."

"I hope so sir." The man winked, "And anytime you need a hurried escape from this place you just call on me, Charlie Carson, and I'll be here in two ticks."

Bates took the driver's card and then exchanged it with his own. "I promise I'm here to work, not to stay."

"These places drive sane men mad and the insane even farther down the path." Carson nodded solemnly, "You take care of yourself in there Mr. Bates."

"I'll do my best." Bates descended the stairs, sliding Carson's card in with his pen and then arranging his briefcase and case to the same hand so he could take the duffle the boy handed him. "Thank you Andy."

"Pleasure's all mine sir." He mocked a salute and Bates flicked him a tip.

"No need for all that."

"It's the right thing to do for those who sacrificed for our country." Andy nodded at his leg. "I assume you got that in the service."

"You're right." John tapped his leg with the duffle in his hands. "Serving in the SOE but that's all I'm allowed to tell you."

"Well good luck Mr. Bates."

"Thank you Andy." John shifted the strap of his duffle more comfortably on his shoulder and secured his hold on his cases to take the path toward the stark building.

His feet scraped and clicked on the pavement and the steps sounded solidly of stone under his weight as he ascended to the door. Risking his case to the damp stone for a moment, he raised his fist to knock at the door but stopped when it opened. A girl, with her mass of dark hair tied back under a nurse's cap and the bluest eyes he ever saw, gasped at the sight of him and then broke into a smile that crinkled lines near her eyes.

"I do hope you're the doctor we're expecting and not an unexpected patient."

"Oh no, I'm here for the long haul." He extended his hand, "John Bates, psychologist."

"It's good to have you." She shook, still smiling. "We're a bit understaffed here and your application to our board was just a miracle."

"Glad to be of service. The offer was a miracle." John bent, grabbing his case, and grimaced. He leaned to the side and caught himself before the woman could help him. "Sorry about that. Bit of shrapnel shifts in the leg occasionally and causes some trouble."

"War injury?"

"One to match my father's." He waited a moment for the spasm in his leg to stop. "But that's what my mother says."

"Has your father passed Doctor?"

"About ten years ago." John shook off the nurse's immediate rush to sympathize. "He lived a good life and married my mother. That's all he ever wanted."

"How'd they meet, if I can ask?" She ducked her head, "I'm always one for a good love story."

"They met in Service. My father was the valet to an Earl and she was the lady's maid to his eldest daughter."

"It sounds romantic."

"To hear them tell it, the whole thing was a grand epic." John sighed, "But I can feel him turning in his grave since I've yet to ask you your name."

"Sybil Crawley," She cringed. "It's a name you'll hear often in this village."

"I take it you're related to the family with their name plastered on every available surface?"

Sybil nodded. "They weren't very pleased when I turned down the chance at a higher class education for my nursing and midwifery courses but they've seen the good I can do and they're coming around to the idea."

"It's a noble endeavor for which you're not thanked nearly enough." John smiled, "My grandmother, on my father's side, was a nurse."

"I'm the first in my family." Sybil pointed John down the corridor. "This'll be your office. For the moment we've got you sharing a room with the head of the male nursing staff, Mr. Barrow, but I expect once they've finished the construction on the upper floors they'll move him up there with the other nurses to keep them all in line and you'll keep the room."

"I'm used to sleeping in barns and bunking with fifty other men crammed into a can." John laughed, "I can handle a roommate."

"I'm more worried about him handling you." Sybil lowered her voice as they reached the room and she produced a key, turning it in the lock before handing it over. "He wasn't too happy about your hiring, if I do say so myself."

"Has he got it out for me then?"

"My father…" Sybil stopped herself, "That is to say, the head of the hospital board, recommended you and they thought-"

"Wait," John put up a hand, his duffle and case on the bed with his briefcase balanced a bit precariously atop the rough pyramid. "Your father is Robert Crawley?"

"Yes." Sybil winced, "I try to pass myself off as a cousin since the Matron isn't a fan of my family in general. Especially not after a rather bad row with an aunt of mine… or was it a second cousin? Anyway, when Susan Flintshire got her sacked from the General Hospital in York, Matron Sadler took it upon herself to make trouble for my father whenever she can."

"She's not going to like me much more than Mr. Barrow than is she?"

Sybil shook her head, "You've not got many supporters here I'm afraid. Most are expecting you to fail and those who aren't won't lift a finger to help you since there's nothing in it for them." She shuddered. "It's disgusting but the life here… It wears on the soul caring for those who can't keep their minds right. That leaves it's own kind of marks."

"Not on you."

"I wear mine differently." A clock deep in the building chimed and Sybil lifted the little watch hanging from her apron and widened her eyes. "I'm so sorry but I've got to dash."

"Here then," John tucked his key away and left his things on the bed, taking only his briefcase, and went out the door with her. "Show me my office and that'll be it."

They wove between lines of patients, some ambling as if only for the exercise while others shuffled from the force of the line behind them. John noted the way they walked, the way some stared, and the quietly labored breathing of many of them. Each nurse held a firm tone to their voice, calling out orders or physically guiding their charges where they needed to go, and the layers of sound bounced off the walls to almost deafen them.

Each person pushed on, heedless of others in their personal quests to go where they needed to travel, and John kept his eyes on Sybil. The grace of her movements reminded him of water running the path of least resistance and when they managed a break in a corridor, a long line of patients trudging by, John turned to her. "Do you dance, Nurse Crawley?"

"I studied ballet as a child but I had a rather bad injury when I was seventeen. It made dancing as a profession impossible."

"Seems a shame."

"It was. I-"

"Student Nurse Crawley!" Both heads turned as a woman with her hair done up under her cap and the coldest blue eyes John ever saw glaring down at them. "You're late for your shift."

"That would be my fault, Matron." John cut in before Sybil could manage a word. "She was helping me situate myself so I didn't get lost in the shuffle and I delayed her. The only fault she has is compassion for the needy."

"I'm sure you're needy in a great many things, Doctor." Matron stared him up and down. "Only just arrived and already throwing out delicate system off its track."

"Some systems could use a shake of the branches now and then." John held his ground, straightening to tower over her as best he could manage. "I'm sure there are things we do that could stand a bit of altering."

"Life is best left as it is." She glared at him before snorting. "But an appointment like yourself wouldn't understand delicacy in such things."

"The subject of how I gained his position need only remain limited to my qualifications, which I can present in now less than three degrees with related certificates, and my experience, of which I have much in many areas and some of them are still classified by our government. Now, Matron," John stepped toward her, keeping down his smile when she quailed slightly. "I'll have Student Nurse Crawley here show me to my office and then she'll continue to her daily duties with no demerits or other punishments. Is that understood?"

Matron ground her teeth and nodded, "Yes, Doctor."

"Thank you." He rolled his neck and extended his hand, "John Bates, it's a pleasure to meet you."

She only looked at his hand and scoffed. "Vera Sadler and the pleasure's all yours."

"I'm sure it is." John faced Sybil, "Could you help me with the rest of the directions? I won't get lost if you'll show me the way once, I promise."

"This way Doctor Bates."

They continued through the halls, Sybil not daring to speak until she reached John's office. Another key came out and she unlocked the door before handing it over. John compared the two keys quickly and then clipped them onto a chain attached to a pocket watch dangling from his waistcoat.

"Hate to lose them."

"Doctor Bates," Sybil's hands clasped behind her back and John faced her, frowning. "It's probably not my place to say but… Could I ask you not antagonize Matron Sadler in future?"

"I do hope you're not saying that for her benefit."

"Most definitely not." Sybil shook her head fast enough to send a few wisps of her hair loose of the tight hold. "It's just… She can be rather a tyrant with her power and I worry about some of the other student nurses. They're not… They don't handle it well. And the patients here handle it much worse."

"I'll keep that in mind." John set his briefcase on the desk. "Could I ask you a favor in return?"

"Of course."

"Tell me if she's abusing the patients or any of the staff. I won't have that in my hospital and I refuse to allow any continuation of brutality for as long as I'm here."

"Yes Doctor."

"That'll be all." John waited for Sybil to close the door and then turned to his desk. "Right, let's begin."

* * *

"John?" The hand at his shoulder startled him and John almost jumped right out of his chair. Anna raised her hands in surrender, her keys still trapped in the fingers of one hand, and she tried to hold back a smile. "You're rather the involved reader."

"Sorry." John shook his head, "I was reading the other John Bates's diary."

"Diaries are for planning." Anna took another chair at the table as John stretched, cracking his back and then straining his muscles. "That's a journal."

"Okay, pedant." John set it down between them, marking the page with a spare notecard. "He's rather feisty. Reminds me of your attending at hospital."

"Gwen?" Anna whistled, "They must've been in for a wild ride back in…" she checked the first page of the journal.

"Nineteen-sixty-five." John shook his head, "He definitely didn't last long there."

"That kind of work can take a toll on the mind."

"That's not what Edith Pelham suggested." John tapped his finger against the cover of the journal. "She said he left after a row with Father Green that resulted in the hospital board trying to circumvent the rule Doctor Bates put down about restricting him from the premises."

"They restricted him?" Anna sat back in her chair, "I hope he saw right through that slimy bastard."

"I get the feeling he heard things he wished he hadn't but I haven't gotten that far."

"Read me a bit?"

"Uh," John looked around, "Can we move to the sitting room? I think this chair's gone and sent half my ass to sleep."

"Alright then. You get your ass awake while I shower." Anna paused, standing up from the table, "In other circumstances I'd invite you to join me but given the state of me…"

"I understand and I'm grateful for your consideration." John waved her up. "Go on. Shower, get comfortable, and I'll get something going here."

"You cook?"

"Occasionally." He pointed to the stairs, "Go on."

"You sound like my father."

"I promise I won't ever make you call me 'Daddy'." They both paused, John reddening, "That wasn't-"

"I don't know. I always saw myself in the domination position." Anna winked and headed upstairs as John gaped after her.

He hurried about the kitchen, checking on the last bits of the washing and then hurrying through a simple pasta he left steaming in a bowl as Anna came down, drying her hair with a towel. She dropped it to hang over the back of a chair and took the bowl between her hands. "Don't think I didn't notice you tidied up the place while I was gone."

"I thought it the least I could do since I'm living here."

"Still…" Anna took a bit, shrugging and then digging in for more. "It's more than most would've done."

"Maybe." John nodded at her. "Do you want to finish that here or do you eat in your sitting room?"

"Since I don't worry about dropping crumbs at my age, I can take my food anywhere." Anna picked up the bowl, "Follow me."

They took their seats, Anna curled on the edge of her sofa as she ate and John opening the journal. "He's settled in at the hospital and he's met Student Nurse Sybil Crawley, Matron Vera Sadler, and he's heard about the head of the male nurses, Mr. Barrow."

"Sounds like a gripping drama." Anna nodded at him, "I hope you narrate with different voices like an audio book."

"I can try my best but I make no guarantees." John cleared his throat.

 _April 21, 1965_

 _Barely a week and I'm already convinced I've made the best professional decision of my career while simultaneously making the worst personal choice. My roommate, Mr. Barrow, bears me more than the minute grudge SN Crawley intimated when I arrived. He's taken to childish pranks and a sort of petulance I'd expect from one just entering puberty, not claiming seven years of professional work. And for a man proud of his military service, he seems determined to dwell more on his grievous injury than his actual service. There's talk amongst the staff that it might've been self-inflicted but I don't hold with gossip. Much to their irritation, and despite my own personal support of the belief that he has the capacity to make such a low decision, I made a rule about spreading gossip around this place._

 _It was one of the biggest problems._

 _Before the war, when I was just a student myself, I used to believe the rumors of dramatic goings-on at hospitals were just tales the lecturers told us to keep us interested past the boringly endless anatomy slides. Given the outbreak of the war and the nature of my commission, and my work with the SOE, I barely had time to experience a hospital setting when I was young enough to enjoy the intrigue. When I remained behind, in Burma and India, to finish my work for the SOE and help with the recovery I had translators. Most of them didn't tell me what went on beyond the basics I needed to do the work. Now that I've experienced even a fraction of it… It exhausts me._

 _I feel old. Barely over forty and the world's left me hollow. I've no patience for the intrigues and plots they all seem to hatch here. More for their own amusement than for any real purpose but even that sickens me. Perhaps it's that my parents never liked gossip. They only ever spoke of others if they thought they could do them some good. I've risked putting myself at odds with all in the hospital by not taking part. According to SN Crawley (who I believe I've made my unwitting spy in all this) they think I'm trying to prove something to them._

 _My unit sometimes thought the same thing. That I was holier-than-thou and beyond myself because I wouldn't drink with them or chase the local girls. But I helped deliver enough children with white fathers in the aftermath of the war… I didn't need to leave a child of mine in the arms of a woman forever shunned. And my father didn't drink. He warned me against it as the Irish in our blood made us beasts with it and the Scottish there made us mad for it. Except for the glass of champagne to celebrate when the Germans and the Japanese surrendered, that was all to ever pass my lips._

 _My father would be proud._

 _I've thought of him more lately. He lived to see my commission but before I took my first mission to India I'd laid him in the ground. He was always older, almost two decades my mother's senior, but he seemed so strong. The untouchable and impervious god who carried me on his shoulders and read to me and loved my mother where I could see. That man couldn't ever die. That's why my mother's convinced he'll never be dead, because we still remember him. It's the thought I carry with me as I struggle to help these people broken and battered by time and tide._

 _I've always thought the mind a curious thing. Now, I fear it. It rules some of my patients where they believe they see people who aren't there or hear voices from demons or Satan or their long-passed relatives. My mother, spiritual woman that she is, wouldn't believe in something like what they hear. They suffer where none can see and I have to help them._

 _It's perhaps the most dangerous commission I've ever dared take._

John looked up at Anna, clutching the empty bowl. "He should've been a poet."

"I think the two of you are more alike than you are different." Anna adjusted only enough to leave her bowl on the coffee table. "What happened next?"

John turned the page, "It looks like he's got some notes on a patient."

"Go on then." Anna settled a pillow behind the small of her back. "I'm curious."

"I can tell." John swallowed, "Okay, next day."

 _Given the dearth of doctors I manage most of the patients on my own. In the last week it's been triage to address those patients with immediate concerns and to follow up on those with notations in the files left by my predecessor, Doctor Laing. He seems a good man and a good doctor. I judge it by the way SN Crawley speaks of him and from the level of vitriol Mr. Barrow and Matron Sadler use when mentioning him. With those two breathing down his neck I can understand the transfer to Bethlehem Hospital in London._

 _Today is the first time I've address the patients caught in the wash of the change and my first was…_

* * *

He noted the file, opening it on his desk and standing when a knock came at the door. Crossing over the office, pulling his tie straight as he did so, and opened the door. Sybil stood there with a blonde woman who stared at him with the deepest blue eyes he ever fell into.

Shaking himself, and clearing his throat for good measure, John opened the door fully. "Thank you Student Nurse Crawley, I'll take it from here."

"Right." She put a hand on the woman's shoulder. "I'll leave you in Doctor Bates's care then Anna. Don't worry, he doesn't bite."

"Thank you Sybil." Anna entered the office and waited on the carpet as John shut the door almost all the way. "Doctor Laing always shut the door."

"I want to avoid anyone feeling trapped in here." John gestured toward it. "I've had a few in here who think I'm locking them in if I shut the door."

"I'd rather you shut it all the way, if it's all the same to you."

"Of course." John closed the door with a soft click and motioned toward the sofa. "Would you like a seat?"

"Thank you." Anna's measured steps put her at the sofa in a short time and she sat with all the poise of a lady. John leaned over his desk to close the file and bring it with his pen and pad to the chair near the sofa.

"I hope you don't mind if I take notes during our session."

"It's what's expected." Anna laid her hands gently on her lap, crossing her ankles. John's eyes darted after the motions and he sat back, leaving the file on the small table beside his chair as she met his eyes. "Is there something wrong Doctor Bates?"

"I'm not sure you're aware, Ms. Bancroft, but your file doesn't tell me enough to understand your posture."

She frowned, "I'm not sure I understand the insinuation."

"You've crossed your ankles, you sit with your back straight, and your hands rest on your lap. They don't flop there, you're not slouching, and your legs are always kept together." John shrugged, "It speaks to a very specific kind of breeding. One I'd hazard you gained all through your formative years, which leads me to believe you're a woman of reputation."

"Not now that I'm here."

"Tell me then, Ms. Bancroft," John brought his legs to cross and supported his pad on his knee. "How were you raised?"

"Perhaps I could press you for more useful conversation?"

"I find this useful."

"I meant for me." Anna's fingers twitched and John glanced toward them, noting the wringing motion that twisted the edge of her formless shift a moment before she dropped the gray fabric and adopted the mantle of lady once again. "Doctor Laing and I had many sessions where he tried to diagnose my problem as a condition experienced by many girls of my… breeding, as you put it. Said the hysteria would be solved with marriage and I must put myself in the mindset to accept that would be the moment it would come."

Now it was John's turn to frown. "Doctor Laing's notes don't mention hysteria, Ms. Bancroft."

"Might I know what they do say?"

"It's not a habit of mine to risk the information to patients but I get the feeling you're not going to tear it to pieces if you read it." John handed the file to her. "The only notes Doctor Laing made in your file were those that encouraged your admission here as a matter of public and personal safety."

"Then you've no access to his notes?"

"He didn't leave me any. Those he did leave pertained to other patients. You he marked," John tilted his head to read it. "Making steady progress and probably release."

"Release?"

"The date is unspecified but I think he had high hopes for your recovery. However," John settled back into his chair, watching Anna read the notes in her file with interest as each page turned. "It does put us in a rather interesting position."

"Does it?" She barely noticed him, her eyes flicking toward him for only a moment as she continued reading.

"It means you'll have to rehash the basics for me." John made a note on his pad. "Although I could already tell you I disagree with whatever he told you about hysteria."

"You do?"

"I do." John tapped his pad. "It's an older term used by men uncomfortable with the idea that women wish to exercise a healthy sexuality. More to the point, they're afraid of the women in their lives exercising the morals of the men in their lives and so attempt to tramp down the natural desires and inclinations of the body in women to justify the pedestal on which they place those women with whom they wish to breed."

"As opposed to the gutter where they leave those they only wanted for their bodies?" Anna finally closed the file. "Do you know why I'm in here, Doctor Bates?"

"There's a letter from your priest that says you're a danger to yourself." John pointed at the file, "I'm sure you read it in there."

"Would you believe me when I tell you that every word of it is a lie?"

"I'm inclined to believe you'll tell me the truth as you see it." John held up a hand when she opened her mouth. "That's not doubt, Ms. Bancroft, that's professional caution. While I've seen more sanity in you in five minutes than I saw in my whole first week here, I must respect the purpose of this institution and the fact that there is a chance you might not be in your right mind."

"Do you think I'm mad?"

"We're all a little mad, Ms. Bancroft. My purpose is to assess if your level of madness if the kind that would make you a danger to yourself and others."

"And if not?"

"Then I let you go and worry about those who need far more help." John scrawled another note on his pad. "Since you don't believe you're mad and I've got the feeling that you're not as mad as people believe, I suspect we'll not have to be here long."

"You believe that?"

"Ms. Bancroft, I believe the purpose of my expertise is to help you train your mind to make you capable in society. It's not to keep you trapped here like a prisoner. There are those who need these beds more and I intend to help those who need it, not to force those who don't need it to take more of it."

She stared at him, her forehead furrowed until the tension in her shoulders relaxed. "If you're serious, Doctor Bates, then I think we should begin."

"I quite agree." He readied his pen, "Speak when you're ready."


	11. Churchmen

"I grew up as a Crawley."

He stopped, his note veering from where his wrist twitched. "I'm sorry?"

"My parents, or the couple I knew as my parents until I turned eighteen. That's when I could, legally, gain the inheritance my mother left me."

"Your mother?" John frowned, "And who was she?"

"A socialite who ran in the same circles as my parents."

"You still call them your parents," John paused, "Do you consider them your parents or have you disassociated yourself from them?"

"It's rather complex." Anna shifted, settling a moment to rest a little more comfortably. "I believed they were my parents until they said otherwise. They're the only parents I've ever had."

"Does that bother you?"

"There are those who people teachers or tutors or governesses are the equivalent of their parents. Why should my confusion bother me when it's the way of the world in which I live?"

"Fair point." John made another note, "I hope this isn't distracting."

"It was a year ago. It's not now." She focused on her hands. "It's amazing what you get used to when given the incentive."

John paused, bringing his head up to stare at her. "I feel there's much more you want to say about that than you're saying."

"There's always more to say about anything." Anna took a deep breath, "But my mother passed when I was eighteen and it was her dying wish that I be told when she passed."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Odd."

"Odd how?"

"Odd in that it felt like a betrayal." Anna paused, "She'd always liked me, seemed very interested in my life and all the details of it, but she never gave a sign. I felt that her death gave her a way to escape all the questions I'd have for her."

"Do you still have questions?"

"I want to know if my father is still alive."

"Couldn't your parents tell you anything?"

Anna shook her head, "All they knew was he was an American officer stationed in York. He left with the invasion at D-Day but that's all they knew. They met him once or twice, in a sea of other officers and uniforms, but what does a few meetings tell you about a person?"

"Depends on the meetings I guess." John fiddled with his pen. "Is that all that troubles you?"

"No… " Anna pulled at her fingers. "I sometimes wonder if my parents took me on as a responsibility or because they actually wanted me."

"Would it matter?"

"They struggled to have children for some time before they took me in as their own and then, two years later, they had their own child." Anna stared at her hands. "I always wondered if they regretted not waiting a touch longer."

"Did you feel you were less than their blood child?"

"They never treated me differently but when I looked back, once I knew the truth, I wondered."

John nodded, tapping his pen on the pad a moment. "Perhaps what you saw was your own fear, Ms. Bancroft."

"I don't understand."

"Firstly, you took your real mother's name when you left your parents' house. Whether as a way to remember her or to separate yourself from the Crawleys, it doesn't matter. Then, you refused to take the money left to you." John pointed at her, "I believe you're afraid that taking the full legacy of your birth mother means, in your eyes, that you've forgotten the generosity and love of your adopted family. Further, you don't feel fully a part of them any longer either and so you gave yourself your original name. You're trapped between two identities, Ms. Bancroft, and you think both versions of yourself would be a lie."

"Then what do I do?"

"You find the real version of yourself somewhere in the middle." He smiled. "The woman you are, Ms. Bancroft, is a combination of the two, not one or the other. None of us are that simple."

"What if I don't like the woman that is?"

"Then you forge her anew." John checked his pocket watch. "Unfortunately we're out of time but I want you to think about that over the next few days Ms. Bancroft. I'd like you to also think about the management of your affairs in terms of what you now must take on as your responsibility."

"You mean the estate?"

"I do." John nodded, standing and bidding her stand as well. "As your doctor I think it'd be an aid to your recovery if you took the chance to really see what's yours and to embrace the extent of your reach. You're a new person and when you leave here you've a chance to find her out there. You've got to be ready for when that happens."

He led her to the door, opening it to see Sybil leading another woman toward the room. "We'll meet next week, same time."

"Thank you Doctor Bates." Anna extended her hand and John shook it. "I don't think I've felt this… free, before."

"It's my job and my honor." He stepped aside to allow her out and the other woman in. "Ms. Edith, how are you today?"

* * *

"He's ahead of his time." John blinked as Anna's voice broke through his reading.

He swallowed, the scratch in his throat crying out to soothe the parched nature of it. "How'd you mean?"

"Back the they wanted all the crazies locked away to keep the nutters out of society." Anna sat up, twisting and stretching. "To have someone convinced they could return to society… that's ground breaking."

"It's Freudian, isn't it? The idea that people are a subject of their experiences and all you've got to do is crack the mind?" John marked the spot and thumbed the rest of it. "I'm more interested in why he gave this to Father Green. What was he going to do with something like this?"

"Hopefully burn in Hell when it served evidence against him." Anna got off the sofa, taking the bowl to the sink in the kitchen as John followed to leave the journal on the table. "I don't tend to want many people dead but I do have a few people whose obituaries I'd read with a bit of unrestrained glee."

"Fan of Mark Twain are you?"

"I like a good quote." Anna leaned back against the counter. "Just like I'd like a good night sleep and whatever other goods you and I can find together."

"Aren't you exhausted?" John stood in the doorway as Anna came toward him, her arms reaching up to drape her hands over his shoulders.

"No." She sucked the inside of her cheek. "Though I'm a bit thrown."

"Thrown?" John frowned, "I don't understand."

"Today you suggested that you wanted children."

"Yes," John flexed his jaw, "I realized that was probably awkward for you and I wanted to apologize for anything I said or did that made you uncomfortable. You didn't deserve-"

Her hand covered his mouth, "I wasn't offended. Surprised and caught off guard, sure, but not offended." Anna lowered her hand. "We've known each other a week, John, and since this isn't a movie where we're bound to be happy with one another after we have sex for the first time, that means we're not destined to be together."

"Wait, I didn't-"

"It also means we might be destined for each other." Anna grinned at him. "I've always believed in being the master of my own fate and while I acknowledge there's a lot about you I don't know and more about me that you don't know, I think we'll weave our unsteady way through it all."

"Now I'm confused."

"You move quickly in your dreams, John." Anna kissed his cheek. "For the moment, let's just take it for what this is."

"What is this?"

"Exciting, new, and hopefully something a great deal deeper." Anna put a hand on his chest. "Bring the journal. I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and I could use something to read."

"You'd read ahead without me?"

"You started it without me." Anna teased back, snatching it off the table before he could get it. "I'm just catching up."

They ran and giggled up the stairs as John chased her, Anna keeping the book just out of reach. John barely missed colliding with the doorjamb as he chased her into the bedroom and then skidded to a stop when he noticed Anna standing beside the bed. She stared at the folded piles of clothes and John looked between them.

"Is it alright?"

"Alright?" Anna set the journal on her bedside table and turned to him. "It's one of the nicest things anyone's ever done for me."

"I thought," John stepped closer to her, fingering the hem of her shirt, "It might be the only way I get my ManU shirt back."

"Oh?" Anna pulled her shirt, stretching it out from her body like a tent. "What if I offered you this shirt?"

"I don't know." His fingers trailed over her skin, moving underneath the stretched fabric. "I think it'd be a bit small for me."

"Then," Anna slipped from his hold, taking the piles of clothes and erecting them into a careful tower on the chair. "I'd suggest we look through those later and you can tell me if you want one as collateral."

"To wear as a belt?"

"However you want." Anna turned back to him, taking his hands to bring them back to her sides. "Not I think you were in the middle of maybe trying to help me get out of this shirt."

"Too tight for you?" John tugged the fabric over her head, letting her arms and hair fall from it as he inspected the material like an appraiser with a piece of art. "It does seem a bit small."

"It accentuates my breasts." Anna turned her chin down to look at them in her entirely functional but not entirely unattractive bra. "They're not large but they are lovely."

"I agree with that statement." John dropped the shirt she was wearing on the end of the bed and ran his fingers up her sides and back as she sighed into his hold. "Mind if I take a closer look?"

"I'd be a little miffed if you didn't." Anna giggled and then moaned as John's mouth settled over the exposed skin to kiss and suck at her.

They managed an awkward crabwalk to the bed and he laid her down in the middle of it before covering her body with his to continue leaving his affections on her. Anna writhed under him, arching her back for his fingers to pull the snaps on her bra apart and leave her entirely open to his adoration. She flung the garment away and settled her fingers in his hair, guiding him with tightened fingers or gentle gasps as he set a trail between both breasts that reddened her skin.

Her whole body trembled and shivered when his fingers played lower to run the line under the tracksuit bottoms that held at her waist. Anna risked a hand to his shirt, pulling at buttons in time with the slow shimmy of her tracksuit bottoms down her hips to reveal her knickers. John lowered his mouth from her breasts to her navel and swirled his tongue there while his fingers slipped her knickers down her legs.

But when he went to kiss around her clit she tightened her leg around his arm and her fingers in his hair tugged to bring him up. Before he could say anything, Anna flipped them both and the air in John's lungs left in a rush. He heaved in as Anna removed his shirt from his prone form and then took her time adoring him.

She took her time, running her fingers over every bit of him she could reach before adding her lips to the mix. John tried to maneuver but Anna dodged his attentions to leave him gasping for air. And when she finally shucked him free of all his clothes, John dug his fingers into the sheets for a grip on sanity. A grip that only made Anna smile wider as she took him in her mouth.

Vaguely, with the tiny part of John's brain not exploding into a thousand pieces when her tongue swirled around him like she wanted to leave tracks in an ice cream cone, he remembered her taunt the night before. Or was it only that morning? His linear memory surrendered to the bursting lights behind his eyes as his body twitched and writhed.

His back arched and John released his grip on the bed to hold Anna's shoulder. She paused, her teeth scraping up him before letting go with a popping noise that rolled John's eyes back into his head, and waited for him to move or speak. Both actions made all the more difficult as her hands continued to squeeze and stroke him as if nothing were amiss.

Finally managing to find words he could string together in a coherent sentence, John choked out, "Not like that."

Anna only smiled and gave one final kiss, adding a finally twisting grip on his sack to leave John groaning in echo around her room, before reaching over him to the drawer in her bedside table. She pulled out the right packet and opened it as her thighs straddled his chest. Her focus was entirely on her balance and John almost threw her when he dragged her legs forward on the bed.

One of Anna's hands hit the wall to steady herself and John noted the clutch of the packet between two fingers before her entire hand curled into a fist. Now it was her turn for her eyes to flutter shut when John experimented with a long lick from perineum to clit. And her legs trembled when he took the point of his tongue through her folds in a long sweep.

John raised a hand to her hip, holding there before drawing her closer to him so he could taste more of her. He sucked over her, dipping as deeply as he could with his tongue before bringing it up to play over her nerves. The jumps and twitches in the muscles under his hands had John caressing over her more carefully to soothe and relax her. When he added his fingers to the mix, spreading and stroking inside her, all that work returned to zero.

Anna moaned and whimpered over him, her hand not pressed so hard against the wall she might leave an indentation, worked down to grab his hair and guide his mouth where she wanted it. John responded to her lead, waiting and seeking until he chased the minutest point of pleasure and her walls clamped around his fingers. Her nerves were between his lips, sucking and swirling his own dance over them, when she shrieked out his name.

She slumped over him and John shifted them so his back was to the wall and she laid against his chest. He bit down to stop his more primal instincts moving her so his erection was no longer pressed between them. But Anna ground on him, her hand scraping his cheek with the serrated edges of the packet still clutched in her fingers, and kissed him soundly. Their tastes merged and mixed as they both tried to take all the evidence of it from the other.

When John leaned to deepen it Anna pulled back. The haze in her eyes flickered to a mischievous glint as she ripped the easy-open packet. She slid backward and unrolled the condom with all the delicate slowness she could muster to drive him right to the edge. With one final caress of his sack, to leave him groaning, she sank down on him.

Staring at one another, her hands on his shoulders and her nails just teasing that they might dig furrows there, Anna moved. First it was a gentle rocking, sinking and adjusting until John could go no further. Then she experimented with gyrations that had John gripping tightly on her thighs to pull her more securely to him. When she rocked into a rise-and-fall, John surged forward to take her mouth and hold on to the tiny bit of sanity she left him. A sanity she broke when speed took over and her steady, metronomic motions turned into furious bobs that bounced her off his hips so all he could hear was the slap of skin over their breathing.

John kissed whatever bit of skin he could reach, thrusting his hips up toward her as his knees came up to give him leverage. His hold on her tightened when her muscles replicated their earlier actions on his fingers and pulled him closer to climax. A climax he sent her into when his lips found her breasts. He kissed over them, taking her through her orgasm with a final caress at her clit.

She sobbed her finish and John grunted his into her shoulder. They shivered against one another, holding tightly as if they might otherwise fly away, and then slid back onto the bed. Anna slipped off him to her side and John risked the light-headed wobble to discard of the condom.

Returning to the bed, Anna curled next to him on her side and he ran his fingers through her hair. She smiled at him, catching his hand to kiss his palm, and then closed her eyes. John chuckled and she cracked one.

"Something funny Mr. Bates?"

"I thought you wanted me to read to you."

"No, I said I might wake up in the middle of the night and read." Anna closed her eyes again, resting on her pillow as she intertwined their fingers. "But I'll wake you up to do it if you want."

"I might be up for that."

"Good." Her breathing evened and within a few minutes she dozed into sleep.

John watched the calm on her face, her fingers loosening their hold in hi his as her muscles relaxed, and focused on the rise and fall of her side. Before he knew it, the rhythm of her body at rest lulled him to his own. The last thing he saw before his eyes closed was the flicker of her eyes behind their lids.

* * *

He made another notation and rolled the typing paper into the machine. With a depression of the buttons, he clacked along the report. Checking every few words that he was on the right track, John continued transcribing his notes until the end roll dinged. His firm grip pulled it from the machine and he waved it in the air a moment to dry the ink before placing it in the file.

A knock came at his door and John, without looking up from his work, called out, "Come in." The creak of the door brought his attention up and John frowned at the sight of the man with a white collar tucked under the black as he stood. "I do apologize Mr.-"

"Father." The man extended a hand. "Father Alex Green. I'm the vicar of the local parish."

"I was under the impression that was Father Travis." John shook the man's hand but released quickly.

"Our geographic dimensions are rather close." He smiled and pointed to the chair in front of John's desk. "May I sit?"

"Please." John retook his own seat, fingers smoothing over his trousers. "How can I help you Father?"

"I'm here about one of my parishioners."

"I had rather hoped you weren't here to give yourself over to our care. I'm not sure what we could do for a man of the cloth."

"I'm as sane as you are, Mr. Bates."

"Doctor." John clarified and noted Father Green's twitch. "It's a matter of professional courtesy, if you don't mind."

"Not at all." He shifted, "But you're the doctor taking over the cases in this hospital are you not?"

"I am."

"Must be so tiring."

"It's my job. I'm sure you can attest, as the leader of a significantly sized flock yourself, that we do the work given to us to the best of our ability."

"Quite right." Father Green steepled his fingers, resting his elbows on his knees. "Which is why I'm here."

He took a deep breath, "I worry over the recovery and soul of Ms. Anna Bancroft."

John did not immediately answer, chewing the inside of his cheek a moment before sitting straighter in his chair. "I may be new to the area, Father, but I'm not new to medicine. As far as I'm aware, and in all of my not so insignificant experience, I've never had a priest come and seek the advice of a doctor as to the condition of the immortal soul of a patient."

"Aren't you concerned with it?"

"I worry over the health of the mind and body, Father. The soul is entirely in your hands, not mine."

"But do you not believe in the intricate connection between the mind, body, and soul?"

"I believe I heal what I can and leave the rest to God."

Father Green frowned, "Are you a God-fearing man, Doctor?"

"I've seen much in my life to make me fear God, Father."

"I don't see you at church."

"I'm Catholic, like my father, and the only services I've attended for the Anglican religion were those given by Father Travis as a personal attendant to one of my other patients." John swallowed, "Overall, my religious observance has no bearing on my abilities as a doctor."

"Do you not believe God's hand is in your work?"

"It's not something I can diagnose or write up in a report if I did."

They stated at one another for a moment and Father Green spoke again. "Then perhaps you could be of assistance to me in the case of Ms. Bancroft."

"I'm sure I couldn't."

"Because you don't believe her soul is your purview?"

"Because I believe there's a restriction on the information I can give and since you're neither the Board of Health or another health professional consulting on her case, I can't tell you anything." John tapped the closed file in front of him. "She's not listed you as anyone responsible for her health and welfare and without a related release, there's nothing I can tell you."

"But she's well?"

"Why don't you ask her yourself?"

Father Green dropped his hands to use the arms of the chair to shift himself into a straighter position. "She's refused Communion when I've brought it and won't participate in Confession."

"Then it seems she's working out her own salvation in her own way." John took a breath, "But while we're on the topic of Ms. Bancroft, I was wondering if you could tell me about your recommendation."

"My what?"

John removed a sheet from the file and held it up, but out of reach of Father Green's arm. "You recommended she be committed for nymphomania. I was just curious what could lead you to believe that."

"I don't recall exactly what I wrote."

"Then I'll read it to you." John cleared his throat. " _It is with great sadness that I write this to you._

 _I've been the vicar for Ms. Anna Bancroft for several years and over that time I've sought to help her through her challenges and trials but it's reach the point I can no longer aid her as a her spiritual leader. What began as a simple fascination with the procreative powers has become a raging demon inside her that I am unable to exorcise. In all my life I've never seen a chase of a woman such as this. One raving with sexual delusions and immoral proclivities only express by those suffering from the worst throes of nymphomania._

 _It is therefore my recommendation, and my plea, that she be removed from society to a place where she will not do harm to herself or others. I pray to God that she finds health and healing in her stay and will eventually seek the light of His holy grace again. Should that not happen, I pray her soul finds peace in the life to come and she's prevented acting on her grossest impulses._ "

John tucked the letter back into the folder. "That's rather strong language to describe a twenty-year-old woman."

"She had rather strong urges."

"I've of the belief those urges are natural and biological, not of the devil." John shrugged, "But since you're obviously living in a different century from myself I guess that's the difference between science and religion."

"You'd argue with the influence of the Devil?"

"If I don't believe it's his hand at work." John tapped the file with a finger, "What did she do that made you believe she was racing with sexual delusions?"

"Just as you have your restrictions, I too have mine." Father Green stood, "What is said in the bonds of confession can only be revealed to God."

"Whatever it was gave you enough to send her to us." John stood, using the few inches of superior height. "From the meetings I've had with Ms. Bancroft I get the very definitive impression that she's just as sane as you and I."

"Then you've not looked hard enough, Doctor."

"in future, I'd ask you not lecture me on how to perform my profession, just as you've assumed I cannot lecture you on yours." They stared one another down, "And, for the health of my patients, I'd ask you not press yourself where you're not wanted."

"How do you mean?"

"If Ms. Bancroft is refusing Confession and Communion, that's her affair. I won't have you upsetting her or anyone else in the confines of these walls by insisting on what they don't want or trying to be where you don't belong."

Father Green scowled, "And what would you do if I refused?"

"I'd toss you bodily from this building and make sure you never step foot in it again." John came around the desk, "The health of these patients in paramount. I won't have you jeopardizing that."

"Then you don't care about their salvation?"

"As I said, that's your business. I mend what I can and I won't have you injuring what I'm trying fix to the best of my ability. Now," John pointed to the door. "I think we've said all we need say to one another and it's best you make your way back to your rectory."

Father Green gave a curt nod, the scowl still etched in his face. "Have a good day, Doctor."

"And the same to you Father." John followed him to the door and let him out. He watched him skulk down the hall and then motioned for Sybil to come to his door. "If he comes again, I want to know about it."

"Father Green comes every Sunday and at least twice during the week."

"What days?"

"It varies. Sometimes it's a Tuesday and Thursday, other times it's a Wednesday and Friday. Why?"

"If he tries to visit Anna Bancroft without her permission, I want him restricted in his visits."

"I'll make a note." Sybil took her pen from her pocket and wrote on a tiny pad. "Anything else?"

"If Ms. Bancroft is willing, I'd like her brought to my office. I need to discuss the recommendation that brought her here."

* * *

John blinked, scrunching his eyes against the light. When he cracked them open he noticed Anna's eyes whizzing along as she turned pages in the journal. His shift, pulling the covers under her feet, startled her and Anna yelped.

She pressed the journal to her chest, covered by his borrowed ManU shirt, and laughed. "You scared me."

"And you read ahead." John reached over to tap the top of the mark he put between the pages. "I thought you wanted me to read aloud."

"I did but then you looked so peaceful I didn't want to wake you." Anna tucked her own mark between the pages. "It's fascinating."

"It's history." John cracked his neck and leaned against the wall. "What've you found out?"

"He met Father Green and I get the impression he thought the man as big a prat as we do."

"He gives a bad name to anyone who wears the cloth with any dignity." John sighed, "Is that why you don't… go to church?"

"My frustrations with organized religion can be summed up by that, yes." Anna shrugged, "But you don't go either."

"I lost a bit of my faith during my marriage."

"People driven to suicide usually lost more than a bit of faith." Anna set the journal aside. "What a pair we make."

"How'd you mean?"

"Before you showed up at my door my life was all work and sleep. Now I'm trying to help you find the answers to a sixty-year-old mystery that dredged up my own less-than-fantastic past while you're trying to come to grips with the fact that your tenuous grip on reality came from a batter old copy of _Oh the Places You'll Go_."

"When you put it like that I'd say we're definitely not in the right mental space for any of this." John took a deep breath. "We barely know one another."

"I've told you more about myself than I've told a host of other boyfriends over the last fifteen or so years."

"But other things." John pointed to himself, "I don't know your favorite color, your first kiss, or your favorite team."

"Easy. Cerulean, fourteen with a guy named Rob from my maths class, and I don't have one unless we're talking nationally."

"Cerulean?"

"There's a club in London that I love called The Cerulean Swan. Very swanky."

"Oh." John shook himself, "But that's not the point."

"I'm guessing yours is red, I don't know, and then ManU, obviously."

"It was Ethel Parks, first year of secondary school, and she tried to choke me by using too much tongue." John put up a hand, "What I'm trying to say, as ineloquently as possible, is that I want to actually date you."

"Then isn't it lucky I've got the next three days free?" Anna leaned over to kiss his jaw. "Although…"

"What?" John stiffened until Anna dragged the shirt over her head and then set a line of kisses to the line of the sheet.

"I think I want to start all of this off on the right note." She whipped the sheet away and John shivered." "If you're up for it."

He pulled her lips to his and rolled her under him. In the grapple of her fingers on him and his fingers in hers, they ripped another packet open and John slid home. The bed shifted under them, the sheets rumpled to scratch and fold around them, and John followed the urging of Anna's hips to set a punishing pace.

The scratches over his back matched the nipping of his teeth at her breasts. He sucked her nipples into his mouth, his other hand working to massage where his mouth could not, and his fingers glided in and out of her with the squeezing slide of her hold on his erection. When they could take it no longer, Anna spread her legs wider and he drove himself to the end.

His hand lifted her thigh, sending him deeper into her, and she moaned with the bite of her nails into his back. They took no thought for direction or sound, lost only in the frenzied desire to put the other over the peak first. John tumbled with little preamble, drawn by the sharp dig of her nails in his ass and the bruising hold of her walls around him. She followed shortly after, his fingers and mouth seeking any erogenous zone he could find.

They lay, panting and shaking, until John raised his head.

"There is one thing I know."

"Hm?" Anna smiled lazily at him, smoothing her hand over where she left harsh red marks in his skin. "What?"

"I do know you're good at this."

"Give me some time and I'll go for a round… four?"

"I'd like that." John moved back, "But, later."

"Later." Anna agreed, shutting her eyes and laying on her pillow. "Much later."


	12. Doctors

John gathered his things as Anna opened the door. "The sofa, if you would Ms. Bancroft."

She took her position, as prim and proper as ever. "I didn't expect you to schedule a meeting with me on a Sunday. All of our previous meetings have been on Thursdays."

"And in any other circumstance they'll still be on Thursdays, unless you want to change to another day."

"Thursdays are fine. They wash us all on Wednesdays and Fridays and Sunday is for religious worship."

"That's actually a bit of why I called you here." John pulled out a copy of the recommendation and handed it to Anna. "I don't think you've ever read this but I believe you should."

Anna took it but did not read it. Her eyes did not leave John's face and the paper stayed stiff in her fingers. "What is this?"

"It's a copy of the recommendation written for your admittance here." John held his pen in both hands, pad resting on his knees. "I've my own… troubles with it but I wanted to know what you thought of it."

"Why would my opinion about it matter?"

"It's about you." Anna shrugged and John pointed to the page. "Could you read it?"

"I glanced at it when you showed me my file in our first meeting."

John smiled, "I'd like you to look at it again. Especially since you told me it was all lies last time."

"Then why would another look change anything?"

"Because the man who wrote the letter visited me today and seemed very concerned for your eternal soul." John gave a snort, "He indicated some kind of fear for your immortal soul."

Anna lowered the paper, putting it back on the table between them. "I can imagine his concern seemed very… sincere."

"You don't seem convinced."

"Father Green's been my vicar for some time. I know things about him that make me less inclined to trust in the sanctity of the Great Church."

"I can understand the frustration. There are a great many people who see the foibles of man as indications that God lacks divinity."

"I hope you're not about to give me a lecture about the importance of worship or religion in my life."

"It's not my business or my occupation." John tapped his pad with the end of his pen. "My only interest is in your health and I get the impression your family was quite religious before you came here."

"The Crawley family were regular accouterments at the church. But not the one where Father Green taught. They attend the vicarage where Father Travis serves." Anna flicked her eyes to the ground. "Church is what you do when you're the pillars of the community."

"But when you became Anna Bancroft?"

"I still attended church. It's what my mother… both of my mothers did." Anna glanced at the paper and swallowed. "But it's different when you go alone. Different when you're not… protected."

"Protected?" John frowned, "Socially or physically?"

"Either really." Anna finally picked up the paper, reading it quickly and then tossing it away. "Lies. Just like I said the first time I saw it."

"I thought as much." John grabbed the paper before it fell from the table.

"Then why ask me?"

"I wanted to know why Father Green would want anyone to believe the lie that you're somehow a deranged hysteric harboring sexual delusions when I know you're not." John took a deep breath. "I don't know if you know this, Ms. Bancroft, but I served in the war."

"Most men did. It would be harder to believe a man like yourself, twenty years ago, had other occupations that kept him from service." Anna pointed at his leg. "Is that where you injured yourself?"

"It's where I received my injury, yes." John tapped his leg, "Service for the SOE in Burma, India, and then China when we were trying to retake it from the Japanese."

"What about it?" Anna nodded at him, "Why mention your service in the war if you didn't have a point?"

"Right," John smiled. "It's more the idea that we see things in war others try to ignore or that we might never otherwise see. Things that aren't supposed to happen in civilized society."

"What is civilized?"

"That's a good question but not what I was thinking about."

"Something in particular about that time on your mind?"

John held her gaze, noting the forced blankness of her face while her eyes flickered. "There was a village, near Hong Kong that had been devastated by the Japanese. A woman came into the clinic and she reported pain in her abdomen. We found out she was pregnant and when we asked about the father she said there wasn't one."

"And?"

"I know the look in someone's eyes when they've experienced something they wish they could forget and I want to know if that was you, Ms. Bancroft."

"I've experienced a lot of things I wish I could forget."

"Then let me ask a more direction question," John sat as straight as he could in his chair. "Did Father Green take advantage of you in any way? A way that would be unbefitting a man in any position but especially someone of his profession and reputation?"

"What makes you think anything happened?"

"Because Father Green asked that I tell him what we've discussed in these sessions. Someone like that doesn't ask for privileged information without cause."

Her eyes widened and her fingers strangled her other hand until her knuckles went white. "You didn't tell him-"

"No. I'd never say anything to jeopardize the privilege we share as doctor and patient. More to the point you haven't really told me anything except that I should read Doctor Laing's notes on you." John shrugged, "I sent him a letter and spoke with him on the phone the other day. He'll be delivering copies of them in the post for me to study as he suggested it might help with your treatment."

"I doubt it."

"I don't know." John caught Anna's raised eyebrow. "If you refuse to speak about whatever it is that brought you here, the same thing Doctor Laing told you to forget about, and whatever Father Green seems afraid you'll tell me about, I'd say there is something there that might help me know what to do with your treatment."

"With my treatment?"

"You're not mad, Ms. Bancroft. You don't suffer from sexual delusions and compared to some of the other incidents of… publicly indecent behavior on the part of a few of your roommates in the ward, you're the model of sanity and propriety. Even in the short weeks I've been here I can't fathom why anyone would put you here."

"Can't you?" Anna opened her arms to him. "Is it not obvious to you?"

"You're not mad."

"I'm a woman, Doctor." Anna shuffled in place. "That's enough for some people."

"Then let me be clearer about my theory." John put his pen and pad on the table, covering the paper with the recommendation. "I think you took your mother's name and chose another parish. Father Green, who to the unwary observer would seem a decent man, befriended you when you felt rather lonely in the world and struggled to understand your new identity. During that time you maintained a friendly relationship with him that meant no more to you than any you might seek with someone else in an advisory position."

He paused, "Am I right so far?"

"You're not wrong."

"But he was. He thought you sought something other than friendship in your time or loneliness and he pressed you. He sought an advantage or sorts and when you rebuffed him he took it… less than well. My guess is that he cornered you in some way, possibly at a social or sometime after dark, and assaulted you. You fought back and-"

"What makes you think I'd fight?"

John stopped, "You're not the kind of person to take anything lying down, Ms. Bancroft. You changed your name and your vicarage when you discovered the truth about yourself. I wouldn't believe you'd let anyone take advantage on you."

"How generous of you."

"I'm seeking the facts, Ms. Bancroft. I've no interest in trying to compliment vanity or presume to appear favorable to you. I only tell what I see."

"Then how does the story end?"

"With Father Green so scared you'd tell the truth of what happened he had you committed." John sighed, "He didn't believe anyone would believe the presumed 'ravings' of a sexually deluded nymphomaniac if she claimed her vicar raped her. How close am I?"

Anna sat stock still, wringing her hands. "Right on all points."

"Is that the story you told Doctor Laing?"

"It might've been a little different but the narrative structure still holds the same."

"Then perhaps," John took his pen and pad back. "You could tell me what happened."

"Why?" Anna snapped and John jumped at her tone. "Why bother telling another doctor the same thing I told the first when you won't believe me any more than he did. You'll think I'm a silly girl trying to hide some kind of degenerate proclivity under the guise of victimhood."

"What gives you that impression?"

"You're a doctor and all doctors are the same. Be they doctors of medicine or doctors of God. You're all just trying to justify the way you pry into people's lives and dissect them. You want my details not because it'll help me but because you want to solve a puzzle of your own. You don't need to hear my story when you'll read it for yourself in Doctor Laing's notes. And you won't believe me any more than he did."

"Ms. Bancroft I assure you-"

"We're finished." Anna stood, "I'll see you on Thursday for our scheduled appointment. I've still got my own worship to see to."

John opened his mouth to speak but shut it. He gathered his things and led Anna to the door, opening it for her. "I'll see you on Thursday Ms. Bancroft."

* * *

John shut the journal, leaning back in the chair as Anna set a cup in front of him. She took another chair, nodding at the journal as she put her cup to her lips. "Frightening stuff isn't it?"

"It's the pain of trying to pry into a person's soul when everyone else before them has just left them bruised." John shook his head. "It's the misfortune of life that we're the subject of our experiences and we can only have pity for those who come to the game too late."

"I'm glad I get them young." Anna brought her legs up, resting her feet on the edge of the chair, and hugged her knees to her chest. "I don't have as much damage to work through."

"Ever thought about being a child psychologist?"

"Maybe in another life." Anna sorted, taking another sip. "I could only see it as one of those slightly anachronistic period pieces with a rather thin explanation for how a woman got a degree to practice medicine and then make it an almost unbelievable drama with unnecessary action."

"In the confines of a psych ward?"

"No," Anna shook her head. "Maybe in turn of the century New York or something, like _The Alienist_ or something in Africa."

"You've given a lot of thought to your made-up profession."

"I've got a big imagination." Anna sighed, holding her cup in both hands. "Averi and I once planned out this world tour we were going to take that would hit all seven continents and as many countries as we could manage before jetlag finished us off and we ran out of money."

"What happened to that idea?"

Anna shrugged, "She passed and then… I was a mess for awhile. I found myself in school and then it was school and study and work and exams and work and board reviews and… I let myself get lost in all the minutia of my life."

"Don't we all?" John ran his finger along the pages of the journal. "Did you read the part about his idea for Edith?"

"I thought it was odd but genius. A very definitive separation between reality and fiction for someone struggling to right the wrongs in their mind." Anna tipped her head to the side. "Can't say I'd have suggested children's books but there's a simplicity there I appreciate."

"She seemed a simple woman when I met her."

"She never went to prison for abducting a child." Anna shook her head, "Class pass I guess."

"I don't know." John spread his legs, drinking from his cup. "I once interviewed a woman on trial for abducting someone else's baby and her mind was broken because she'd lost her baby in an accident. There are some things our emotions won't allow us to endure and our minds try to bridge an impossible gap."

"You think she deserved what she got?"

"Do you think she deserved more?"

Anna sucked the inside of her cheek, "I think it's not right that if she'd not had a name and the money to go with it then she'd have rotted in a cell for the next ten years of her life."

"I don't know. The mercy of mothers who sympathize with the fears another mother faced might've been enough to spare charges being pressed no matter who she was." John shrugged, "I think the best thing that happened to her was her parents putting her in that asylum, crackers as it sounds."

"From what I've read about Doctor Bates I'd say he was what made the difference, not shutting her away in a nutter center." Anna paused, "And I know why Anna couldn't admit to what happened."

"Why not?"

"You met Green. He's a disgusting bastard but he holds a position. He had respect in the community and that kind of action, no matter how disgusting, wouldn't be believed. She just found out she was an illegitimate child herself. Who's going to believe her?"

"What happened to your 'class pass' idea?"

"You need others in your class to support you."

"She had her sister."

Anna shook her head, "From what we read in Violet's letters to Averi, I don't think she did. She cut herself off from that life because it didn't feel like hers anymore."

"Is that what you did, when Averi died?"

She narrowed her eyes, "I hope that's not your interview voice."

"No," John laughed, "I just… I wonder if you stopped yourself taking that trip because you worried you'd betray Averi's memory by living that part of life without her."

"Is it sad?"

"It's human." John took a deep breath, "I think we need to start living the lives we deserve instead of the ones we resigned ourselves to have."

"Like the life you resigned yourself to?" Anna shrugged at John's confusion. "People with their shit together don't tend to opt for a jump off the tallest tower."

"True."

"Can I ask what… What happened there?"

"You mean with my marriage?" Anna nodded and John whistled, "Where to start with that dumpster fire?"

"Preferably at the beginning."

"Well you already knew it drove me to the point of suicide so it didn't end well."

"I was hoping the beginning wasn't so morbid."

"It wasn't. It was… fiery passion and lust and more sex than I'd had in awhile."

Anna snorted, "Sounds horrible."

"It wasn't until I realized we never talked. We'd drink, we'd eat, we'd argue about something inane, and then we'd resolve all of our problems with sex. We never actually fixed anything. We just… We were really only ever shag buddies but we didn't want to find anyone else so we got married." John sighed, "But what bad romance novels never say is that sex dies. Life gets in the way and you start to realize that you're not actually attracted to the person only sleeping next to you. If they're just a workout and not the reason to workout out then why bother?"

"That's philosophical."

"That was what happened when I got sober." John shrugged, "We found out we didn't actually like one another. We had nothing in common and, instead of sticking with it and trying to get better or grow together like adults, I took all the assignments I could as far away from her as I could get."

"You're right." Anna finished her drink, "It's not adult but we don't always act the way we should."

"She got lonely and did what she did when she got lonely."

"Find someone else?" Anna cringed, "I remember reading something about that."

"It was a bit of a scandal when she scooped my story to give to her…"

"Boyfriend?"

"Is that what you call the person you're sleeping with while your husband's away?"

"It's what I called the woman my boyfriend chose instead of me."

"I remember you mentioning him."

"It's hard not to." Anna waved a hand at her house. "I bought this place hoping that I'd share it with him and fill it with children. I'd hoped he'd be the one but then he never wanted to talk about marriage and then he never really liked kids so that dream died."

"Not forever I hope."

"Maybe." Anna put her hands on her knees. "But I count myself lucky. I didn't have your wife."

"I didn't think you swung that way."

"Well," Anna winked at him, "There was one time at Uni… But that's a story for another time. I'm stealing your thunder otherwise."

"Anyway," John adjusted in his seat. "My ex-wife and her boyfriend got into bondage, like I mentioned, and staged photos that helped them win the divorce case in her favor. I paid alimony for longer than I could afford and then they married. So there I was, broke, practically homeless, and feeling about as low as you can go without actually being six feet under, so I thought, 'it can't get worse if I just end it' and… here we are."

"Here we are." Anna grinned, "Do you feel like I know you better?"

"I hope you're not making fun."

"No," She put a hand on his arm. "I think it's rather sweet and I'm very intrigued as to where you're planning on taking me on our first real date."

"Yeah, our other outings haven't been romantic."

"I don't know," Anna drew in a breath, "Going to visit a woman about her dead grandmother's papers, shifting through an archive, and then confronting a retired vicar… those were all interesting activities."

"Technically they'd all be part of the same date since we're on week two." John counted on his fingers, "If my math is right we did only start this little crusade a week ago."

"I guess we jumped the gun a bit then." Anna made a show of cringing, "I do hope you're not one for long courtship rituals."

"I've not got time to buck up the courage to stalk you outside of a building for months and send you roses until I ask you to a dance before never speaking to you again." John drew his finger over the cover of his laptop. "My only worry is what we do after all this."

"After?"

"Eventually we'll reach the end of Doctor Bates's journal. Then I'll have to find a way to write the life stories of four people in some kind of coherent plot so my readers can follow it. After that I have to find a new story."

"And you don't think you'll find it here?"

"I don't think my editor'd let me write endless exposés on you." John smiled at her. "And I've technically got a flat in London that I eventually have to go back to."

"What if you stayed here?" Anna shrugged, "I know it's a ways from London but your job is mostly online correspondence right? And the rest of it is calls or FaceTime or something."

"I go back to, 'we've only known each other a week'."

"And I'll remind you about the 'I've shared more with you than boyfriends I've had'." Anna sighed, "I've gotten used to having someone here."

"As cook and cleaner?"

"Not that I'll argue with how wonderful that is," Anna swatted at him. "It's more the company. I spend so much time at hospital, surrounded by people, that I hate coming home. It's empty and… I don't know. Even before we slept together I liked having another presence in the house. It made me feel like it was really a home."

"Didn't you feel that with your boyfriend?"

"Sometimes but not really."

"What do you mean?"

"It's…" Anna scrunched her face, as if searching for the right words as she stared into a corner. "It's like the butterflies and unicorns at first but after awhile I'd get this anxious feeling in my stomach. Like being around him put me on my game and I walked eggshells around him. It's probably why I never said no to extra shifts at work. I didn't feel like home was home anymore. It was like being back at Uni with that one flatmate you just can't stand but always seem to run into."

"I remember that feeling." John shuddered, "Simon Bricker. He always had this stalker-like quality to him. Drove me batty with how he would follow these girls around after he picked them up in some art appreciation class."

"Then you know the feeling." Anna sighed, "It's horrible to say it but when I found out he cheated again I felt relieved. The first time I felt like it was my fault, because I hadn't shown him the attention he deserved, and I forgave him but the second time was like sweet release."

"Funny how we get so used to things we're looking for a shock to our system to get us out of it all." John chewed the inside of his cheeks. "But I don't know if we should risk it."

"Being housemates?"

"You're the one who said we were in a relationship as 'romantic acquaintances'." John pointed at her, "Although I do rather appreciate your term."

"Thank you. I came up with it when you're in that stage between 'going on dates' and officially 'dating'."

"Been in that No-Mans-Land before?"

"It was my entire life as a resident." Anna shook her head, "But you're right. We've jumped the gun quite a bit."

"I blame myself."

"Your comment about wanting children with me, while not unappreciated, was a bit of a shock."

"I thought the woman who hoped I'd walk into the shower and see her naked would've approved." They grinned at one another. "But it doesn't answer our problem."

"Why don't we worry about that problem after we've had one proper date and see where that takes us."

"I'd be honored to take you to dinner."

"And I'd be honored to go with you." Anna stood up, taking their cups. "But I think I'm going to sleep some more first."

John frowned, "It's noon."

"And I work very odd hours so I don't really obey normal circadian rhythms." Anna put the cups in the sink, shrugging at his surprise. "You could start drafting that article you've inevitably got to write."

"I could do that." John stood, walking toward her, cornering Anna at the counter. "Or I could help you get off to sleep."

"You just said it's noon."

"I'm not one to say no to snacks at lunchtime." John lowered his head, kissing gently over Anna's neck. "Unless you're going to say no."

"I'm not an idiot." Anna moaned, her hands holding the fabric of his shirt.

"Good." John continued with his careful kisses, tracing the veins he saw on her neck. "Do you have anything that's off limits?"

"I'm not opening my backdoor if that's what you're asking."

John paused, meeting her eyes. "I'm not into kinky."

"Or bondage?" Anna cringed, "After that fiasco with your ex-wife."

"Tying you to the bed with some silk scarves wouldn't be a total loss." John teased, dragging a finger around the line of her tracksuit bottoms before slipping under the elastic band. "But I'll save that for another time."

"Now you've got me curious." Anna moved a hand to the back of his neck, kissing a mirroring line to the one he left on her neck. "What would you do to me?"

"I'd lay you out," John turned his head to the other side of her neck as his fingers snaked under the line of her knickers and traced her folds to leave her quivering under his caresses. "And leave no bit of you untouched. You'd be the picture of sated relaxation and then I'd bring you to the edge, right up to the peak before letting you fall. Over and over until you'd be just a relaxed mass."

"Then what?" Anna managed, John's thumb pressing a flicking at her clit while his fingers taunted toward her opening.

"Then I'd take you as slowly as I could manage until my sanity broke and I fell over the edge to join you." John brought his fingers right to the edge, confined between the angle of her tracksuit bottoms and the knickers. "If you wanted."

"Hell yes." Anna pulled his mouth to hers and he lifted her to sit on the counter.

Between the two of them they managed to get her bottoms to the floor, her knickers dropping on top of them with a muffled thump as John's fingers entered her. Anna's nails dug into his shoulders, her hips rocking and bucking toward his attentions as he laid kisses over her neck and exposed skin. She half-tore her shirt over her head and John helped her so he could access the rest of her available skin until she cried out.

It echoed around the kitchen and John paused only long enough for Anna to yank his trousers and pants to his knees. He carefully shifted forward, not wanting to trip himself with his restricted motion, and slid against her. They shifted and rolled, drawing one another to the edge of sanity until Anna's heel in his ass brought him to thrust forward.

John gasped, gripping tightly to Anna's hips and tilting her so the contours of the counter did not dig too uncomfortably into her skin. He pulled her close, sinking as deeply as he could, and lifted her from the counter. Her hands flailed, holding tightly to him as he maneuvered back to his chair and sat down with a grunt.

Anna squeezed her eyes shut, the motion sending John right to the edge, and John tried to fight past the pinpricks of pain from her nails in his skin. Sliding a hand to her thigh, John opened her further until they rubbed pubic bones and Anna clenched her walls about him. John forced a lung-filling breath and moved.

Back and forth, slipping and sliding, rocking and gyrating, bobbing and gliding, they moved together. Anna angled her hips, tucking one leg under him and the other around him to keep them close, and kept just out of reach of his mouth. Her hands moved over his chest and as his legs kicked out to leave his trousers and pants near her bottoms, his shirt soon hit the floor.

She bent her head to lick and kiss over him, occasionally grazing with her teeth before nipping at his skin. John groaned, taking his revenge on the soft skin behind her ear, her delicate neck, or the exposed flesh of her breasts. His fingers dug into her thighs and ass, maneuvering them toward a finish but Anna repeatedly slowed them, dragging him with the clutch of her muscles and the repeated murmur of "Slowly."

John smoothed a hand up her back, the other keeping her in place for a deep thrust, and managed the catch on her bra. Anna flicked it from her shoulders and tossed it to the ground in time for John to take a breast in his mouth. He rolled his tongue over her nipple until she whimpered and then turned to the other.

Anna's nails dragged over his shoulder and her hand snuck between their bodies to work herself to another peak. When John changed to the other breast, she lost her careful control. The rock of her hips met his increased thrusts and soon Anna cried out as her fingers dug into the flesh of his chest.

He tipped her head up, taking her mouth in a kiss she held onto with a hand along his jaw. Pumping into her, the shunt of their hips squeaking the chair across the floor, John took a breath as he finished. Anna lined his exposed neck with kisses in time with the final stutters of his hips as he emptied inside her.

They sat there a moment, John smiling at her before his face fell. She frowned and John swallowed, trying to find enough moisture in his mouth to speak. "Condom."

Anna widened her eyes and then laughed, "Oops."

"That's not normally what women say when those things get forgotten." John helped her slide off, grabbing a tea towel to clean them both up before gathering their clothes. "Is it serious?"

"Statistically?" Anna reached into the fridge, swigging from a water bottle before offering it to him. "No. I'm not ovulating and unless you've got the swimmers of Superman or we're in a dystopian movie I don't know about, I'm pretty sure we're not in an awkward position."

"Are you… clean?"

"I work in a hospital." Anna took the water bottle back. "What about you?"

"Other than you, I've not had sex in… longer than I want to admit."

"Then we're fine." Anna took her clothes from him, "I'm going to shower and then take a nap. You're welcome to join in either of those endeavors."

"We'll only get ourselves into more trouble if I join you in the shower."

"I might want that." Anna kissed his cheek. "But suit yourself."

"I do have a date to plan."

"Now you've got me all excited." Anna took the tea towel as well. "Laundry."

"Right." John held his clothes awkwardly in his hands. "I should get dressed."

"I don't know." Anna shrugged. "I like the idea of you working down here naked. Makes me think you'll be all ready for me if I get horny later."

John choked, "What?"

"I'm kidding." Anna went toward the stairs, "Or maybe not. You decide."

John watched her leave and waited until he heard the bathroom door open. He raced after, slipping in behind her, and surprised Anna with a kiss to the back of her neck. They laughed and giggled, stumbling into the shower, and soon John had Anna moaning under the dual action of his hands on her with the hot water soothing and relaxing her. Eventually, with her leg on the edge and John pressed in from behind, she came with a cry and he followed shortly after.


	13. Emotions

John pulled at the cuffs of the shirt, slowly extending his arms to make sure it could stretch, and practiced moving in different directions with a slight pinwheel to his arms. At the sound of a laugh he turned to the top of the stairs and dropped his jaw at the sight of Anna, arms flopping to his sides. She wore a dark blue dress, that billowed out as she spun a circle for him.

"Will I do Mr. Bates?"

"I think you'll more than do." He extended her a hand and Anna took it, descending the stairs to join him. "You look beautiful."

"And you clean up rather nicely yourself." Anna adjusted his tie. "I liked your stretches just now."

"The shirt's new and I haven't shopped for a new one in awhile. I didn't want it tearing on our date."

"Expecting much exertion?"

John smiled at her, "That's a surprise, Doctor, and if I told you it'd ruin it."

"Alright then." Anna mimed closing her mouth. "I won't ask for anymore spoilers. But I warn you, I can't run far in these shoes so I do hope we're not reenacting anything with a James Bond feel to it."

"That would be the next date."

"Right." Anna threaded her arm through his. "Do I need a coat?"

"Only if you don't want to get soaked." John put a finger toward the ceiling as a clap of thunder followed the flash out the window. "Heavy storms."

"Thank goodness. I thought the drought would never let up." Anna went for her coat but John beat her to it, holding it up as she threaded her arms through the sleeves. "Ever the gentleman."

"If not then my poor mother'd be rolling in her grave right now." John took his own coat and the opened an umbrella, "After you Ms. Smith."

"Thank you." Anna stepped under it as John guided them out the door.

He risked the patter of drops over the back of his coat as Anna locked the door, and then led her to the car. Opening the door like a gentleman had Anna snorting to herself but she accepted his help and waited for him to come around to his side. John shook the umbrella out and tossed it into the back of the car before starting the engine.

She giggled and John turned to her. "What?"

"The umbrella is supposed to stop you getting wet." Her hand brushed water off the back of his coat.

"The coat catches anything else." John shrugged and turned into the street. "That's what they're for right?"

"Since it's still on the borders of blistering outside I'd say yes." Anna shrugged out of her coat. "I think I'm going to risk getting wet."

"I thought you already did that being in my presence."

Anna stopped, her jaw dropping as she shifted in her seat to face John's growing grin. "You did not just say that."

"Did you think you were the only one who could tease?"

"I'll admit I'd thought you incapable of taunting but I'll have you know-"

"If you're about to try and top me I'll be honest," John winced at her. "I don't think you can."

"Can't I?" Anna folded her arms over her chest. "How are you ever going to focus when I tell you that I'm not wearing any underwear at all?"

John hit the brake hard enough to tighten their belts over their chests and stopped the car just short of hitting the one in front of them at the red light. He caught Anna's self-satisfied shuffle back into position out of the corner of his eyes and coughed. "You're the worst."

"Keeps you interested."

"You didn't have to leave your knickers at home to get me interested."

"I did it for the fun." Anna pulled at her skirt. "It billows a bit when I get flashy and I wanted to try and sneak you a peek during dinner."

"Then you might be in a bit of trouble since we're not just going to dinner." John parked the car and Anna covered her mouth, her smile leading into a laugh. "I do hope you like dancing in those shoes Ms. Smith."

"If it gets too bad I'll take them off and stand on yours."

"It would keep you close enough not to flash any poor old women." John reached back to grab the umbrella and hurried to Anna's side of the car, following her lead and leaving his coat rumpled in the front.

They dashed through the puddles to the entrance and John pulled out his wallet to manage the tickets before handing over the umbrella to drip-dry with the rest of them. The couples around them cooed at Anna's dress or commented on their appearance as a couple and preceded them up the stairs. John offered Anna his arm and they ascended as well, their footfalls muffling in the carpet.

"What do you think?" John waved a hand about them and Anna leaned closer to hiss in his ear.

"I think we're going to get noticed. What is this?"

"It's a regional ball for service members."

"I'm not a service member."

"No but I was and I managed to wrangle an alteration in the invitation since I never go to the one in London anyway." John guided Anna to a table and drew out her chair. "Would you like to sit?"

"I think I should before I draw anymore attention to myself." Anna held carefully to her skirt and John leaned over her shoulder to whisper in her ear.

"In any other circumstance I would hate myself asking this question, since the alternative is far too appealing, but I do hope you were joking about your lack of knickers in the car."

"Honest answer is that I left the bar at home but the built-in one in this dress is enough." Anna squirmed in her seat. "And I've got a thong so… it'll have to do I guess."

"We'll just try and keep ourselves manageable on the dance floor then." John took his seat next to her, eyeing the room. "It is like going to Bingo night at my mother's retirement home."

"You attended her bingo nights?"

"I was a very devoted son, I'll have you know." John sobered, "It's what made losing her so difficult. She was the last good thing in my life."

"You mentioned earlier that was a year ago." Anna leaned on the table, covering his exposed hand with hers. "Was that when it all went to shit?"

"About that time. They say trouble comes in threes and it never stopped. Just one thing after another until there was nothing left but Tower Bridge."

"And one last bookshop." Anna smiled at him, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. "I want to send that woman a gift basket for the rest of my life."

"What?"

"As a 'thank you'." Anna shrugged, "If she hadn't sold you Averi's book we'd both be worse off right now."

"You'd be alive."

"But not living." Anna kissed his cheek, pulling back as another couple joined their table. "We'll talk later."

"And how long have you two been together?" She pointed to the two of them, holding to the hand of the rail of a man next to her.

"About a week." Anna patted John's hand. "He's just the best."

"So it only feels like a week?" The man smiled at them, giving his own smile to the woman next to him. "Every day for us feels like forever in a second."

"How long've you two been together?" John intertwined his fingers with Anna's and nodded at them, moving over Anna's attempt to explain her comment.

"Three years now." They sighed at one another, the woman speaking. "I lost my first husband almost two decades ago and then I met Dickie and… well, I guess you're never too old for indecent proposals."

"I hope I never am." John dodged the nudge Anna aimed at him. "But I guess love is always a surprise."

"And you know you'd never be the same without it." Dickie's long fingers folded like his entire body was just an extendable pole. "I didn't have much love in my first marriage but you stay together for the children you know. But when she died I found myself completely unable to really care for myself. I'd forgotten who I was until Isobel helped me recover joy."

"That's beautiful." Anna smiled at them, picking up her glass, "To finding love at any age and any time."

"Hear, hear."

Dinner arrived shortly and they made conversation about the regiments Dickie and John served, when they served, if they knew any of the same people, and eventually around to why John was so much farther north than his normal party. Skipping the suicidal episode, John told them about the book and tracing Anna to her new address to return it.

"But your sister already passed?" Isobel put a hand to her mouth. "How tragic."

"I saw it as an act of God really." Anna put her hand over John's again. "If not for his time-honored tradition I'd still be thinking my sister died years ago. Because of him I've now got so many more memories that I share with her."

"And because of her relationship with Violet Crawley we've made a few new relationships of our own." John grinned at Anna and then caught the expression on Isobel's face. "Are you alright?"

"Violet Crawley, mother of the late Earl of Grantham?"

"Yes." John brought his chair closer. "Do you know the family?"

"Very well. Violet Crawley was an acquaintance of mine. My son married her granddaughter, Lady Mary Crawley." Isobel paused, "She still lives at the Abbey if I recall."

"We met her in our little quest." Anna made a face. "I guess you never really realize how closely people are connected."

"I guess not." Dickie's long face stretched into a bemused expression. "Lady Mary's my goddaughter. It's how I met Isobel."

"What a small world." John chewed the inside of his cheek, "This may seem an odd question, and I promise I'll explain it in a moment, but do either of you know the name Anna Bancroft?"

"That's a name I've not heard in an age." Dickie made a face as Isobel shook her head in the negative. "She was Violet's elder sister as I remember. A bit of scandal around her birth since a few people whispered her mother was Lady Lavina Swire. But she was a Crawley until around eighteen. Then she changed her name and that was that."

"What do you know about her?"

"Lady Lavina was a wonderful woman. Supported any number of charitable organizations and let her home be used for convalescences in the Second World War." Dickie paused, "I believe that's how she met an American officer. They were, from what my parents whispered to one another, quite close."

"What happened to the officer?"

"He died in Greece, serving in the SOE."

"What was an American doing in the SOE?"

"After his recovery, from a rather daring paratrooper raid so I heard, he requested a transfer to the branch to continue doing his work." Dickie grinned, "My father served with him. He's the one who arranged his transfer to Lady Lavina's home in the first place."

"And he died?"

"Sacrificed himself for my father and the other men to escape." Dickie shrugged, "It broke Lady Lavina's heart so thoroughly she disappeared to Scotland for a year. Now that I think about it the timing does match up with the suspected rumors."

"We've other evidence to suggest that Anna Bancroft was the daughter of Lady Lavina Swire but we're curious, if her last name was Swire…" John did not finish the question before Dickie spoke again.

"The officer's name was Bancroft. Magnus Bancroft. I don't know why I never put those two together before."

"Circumstance and correlation I guess." John hurried to continue. "What about the other scandal?"

"You mean her year in that asylum?" Dickie shook his head. "Only complete berks believed it. Those determined to see people of fortune and standing ruined. There were nasty rumors that I quashed whenever I could. Anna Bancroft was nothing if not a kind and gentle soul. Not one to suffer fools but certainly not what they claimed."

"What about her family?"

"They searched for a year for her, after she went missing, but never found a trace of her. Broke poor Violet's heart." Dickie sighed, "But what interest do you have in her? She's long before your time."

"We've collected evidence and we're trying to piece together her story." Anna shrugged, exchanging a look with John. "We believe she deserves to have her story told."

"Well, I hope there's peace for her in the telling. Her life had more than enough noise to make peace worth her while." Dickie turned up his head as the music started. Extending his hand to Isobel he smiled, "Would you like to dance darling?"

"Yes please." She followed him to the floor and John stifled a laugh with the back of his hand at the sight of the lanky man maneuvering around the floor like he might snap together like a folding chair.

"Don't make fun." He jumped as Anna swatted his arm. "I'd like a go."

"Of course." John stood, drawing out his movements to make them more dramatic. "May I have this dance?"

"Silly beggar." Anna gave him her hand and gave a little chuckle as John spun her into position. "I get the feeling you've done this before."

"It's a method of flirtation." John dipped her, "And I'm very good at it."

"Then don't let me stop you."

They sashayed around the floor, John expertly maneuvering them between couples. Anna tried to lead a few times, John only just saving them trodding on unsuspecting toes, and finally gave over to his skill. Even when the music changed he kept beat, maintained their pace, and only left the dance floor when Anna winced at the pinch in her shoes and their cheeks blushed the healthy red of exertion.

Saying their goodbyes to Isobel and Dickie, a quick exchange of basic information to let them know the details of the search, and they were retrieving their umbrella to make a dash to the car. But as John went to open it Anna slipped by him. She removed her shoes and splashed out into the rain. John stared for a moment before wrapping the umbrella tightly and tucking it under his arm so he could join her.

They kicked through puddles, soaking into John's shoes and leaving his socks squishing against his skin, but he only took Anna's hands and danced with her in the carpark. The lights about them flickered off the gentle rain and glowed so the raindrops on their skin shone in the light. John spun Anna in a circle, her wet skirt struggling to billow out as it wanted, and he caught a glimpse of the hinted-at thong.

When he caught her, eyes shining, he finally kissed her. John wanted to hold her close, keep her in his arms, but a crack of lightning split them apart as quickly as if they took the brunt of the blow. Both of them laughed and John dug his keys from his pocket to get them into the car.

Driving back the rain lessened, splattering the car with a gentle drizzle as he pulled to park in front of Anna's house. He pulled the key from the ignition but Anna's hand landed on his. In the dim light, lit only by the dull reflection of the street lamps through the windshield, John watched Anna's eyes darken.

"Have you ever done it in a car before?"

"A long time ago." John swallowed, pushing his seat back as far as he could.

"I wasn't any good at it the last time I tried." Anna crawled into his lap as John lowered the seat. "I'd like to try again."

"I wasn't any good then either."

John surged up and took Anna's mouth with his. Her fingers immediately dug through his hair to hold his head in place as she writhed over him. His hands sought a hold on her thighs but the temptation of her still-rain-wet skin drew him higher until he pulled at the thin string holding her thong in place.

Anna moaned into his mouth and opened as many buttons on his shirt as she could managed before running her hand over his skin. It trailed down in time with his taunting strokes toward her center and they both reached their destinations at the same time. John grunted when she gripped him tightly through his trousers and Anna's whimper brought them both to a frenzy.

In a rush of flipped belts and yanked knickers, Anna positioned herself over John and sank down. The friction from the rain set the steam to their skin that soon sent beads of sweat running rivulets down the contours of their muscles. Anna licked a few from John's neck as she worked herself in an up-and-down motion and John traced hers between her breasts before helping both escape the confines of her dress.

She groaned when he set his tongue and lips to work. Kisses and gentle sucks turned ravenous with Anna's shift in angle and her tight grip on his hips with her knees. The new hold allowed her to bounce with enough force to slap their exposed skin together. John focused on the noises she made, however, and tried to ignore the obvious rocking of the car and the excessive steaming of the windows.

In another moment he pressed his lips to her nipple, sucking it between his teeth in time with the flick of his thumb at her clit, and Anna cried out. Her walls tightened around him and John held her close as he took over thrusting upward. His feet on the floor of the car provided insufficient leverage but the heat of the car and the heat of the moment were enough to send him joining her in climax. They huffed for air and tried to restore one another to respectability before Anna crawled off him and back into her seat.

"I'm so glad night watchmen aren't a thing anymore." John cranked his seat back into place and opened his door. As he stood up a policeman stood there, arms folded over her chest as Anna laughed in the passenger seat.

"You were saying?"

"I can explain-"

"I hope that explanation starts and ends with the two of you getting into your house and not ever doing something like this again." The woman scoffed, "There are children living on this street."

"They wouldn't have seen anything." John tried to defend but then cowered under the woman's scowl. "Right. Never again."

"Good." She nodded at the two them. "Have a pleasant evening now."

Anna burst out laughing again.

* * *

John pushed back his plate and smiled at his mother. "As good as always."

"You're just saying that because what you're eating now isn't food."

"It's what they eat and I won't have it any other way." John sighed, taking the dishes from the table before his mother could. "It's the least I can do since you made dinner."

"It's just nice to have you home."

"I live ten minutes from here if you take the bus." John put the dishes in the sink, filling it with a crank on the pump. "It's better than when I lived in London."

"I won't argue with you there." She joined him, pushing her sleeves up her arms. "But you're in such a different position here than you were there Jack. There you were safe and I didn't have to worry about your health if one of your poor patients breaks."

"We don't have anyone there with a history of violence. Most of them are nervous tics or psychoses. They're more of a danger to themselves than anyone else."

"What makes you say that?"

"It's more…" John struggled for words. "It's more about them not managing themselves in society than them not being fit for society. If I had my way we'd say that society's not fit for them."

"Unfortunately society favors the whole and not the outlier." She took the dishes he handed over, drying them on a tea towel. "What do you hear from your brother?"

"Robbie's still trying to strike it rich in America as a banker in this post-war industrial boom. Making his way from New York to the Midwest or something. Some little town in Appalachia or something." John finished the last dish, draining the sink. "What does he tell you?"

"About the same. Says he's too busy to settle down and find a girl." John's mother sighed. "Both of you seem dead set on making all of my hair white before you give me grandchildren."

"One usually needs a wife to have children unless you've changed your stance on the bounds of matrimony."

"I won't pretend to be ignorant of the fact you're both healthy men and therefore you've stretched your libidos before but you're right, I do want you to find nice women who won't put up with any of your nonsense and might actually get you to buckle down." She snapped him with the tea towel. "I wanted you both to be like your father but not in all things."

"If you're about to give me a lecture about how he was my age when he had me…"

"Looks like I don't need to." She winked at him, "Come on. I know you've got to get back soon so just sit with me a bit yes?"

"Of course." John followed his mother to the sitting room and joined her on the sofa, holding her wrinkled hand in his. "Are you doing alright here, alone?"

"I'm not alone. Your sister and her husband live just next door. And you know I always say it but-"

"Yes, Gwyneth set the example you wish we all would follow." John dodged another swat. "In all seriousness, there's something I'd like to ask you about."

"What is it?"

John took a breath, "There's a woman I'm working with, at the asylum-"

"I already have a bit of a bad feeling about this."

"It's not…" John stopped, "She shares a bit in common with you. Well, more than a bit in common with you. It's actually rather odd how coincidental it is what she shares with you, all things considered it's-"

"Your point, Jack?"

"Right." John cleared his throat, "She's got your name, for one."

"It's a fairly common name. anyone with access to a Bible could find it in the book of Matthew and it's rather a pretty name."

"I never said any differently." John patted her hand. "But it's more… She's suffered a bit of trouble."

"We all do."

"This is more like… the house party." John stayed silent as his mother's face fell a moment. She recovered quickly but he could see the shadow there. "If you don't want to talk about it-"

"It was a long time ago Jack. I've long since… resolved myself about it."

"But it's still painful."

"It always will be but it's not dark like it was." His mother smiled at him. "How does it concern your patient?"

"She won't say and I don't have all the notes from the former doctor but-"

"Why didn't he leave you all of his notes?"

"His resignation happened in a bit of a rush. His mother took ill and he had to get to her. She passed just two weeks ago and he's been caring for her ever since. In the melee a few things got forgotten. I was lucky he had time to leave the detail to the notes he did. And al the rest he's sending as soon as he's able."

"Poor man. I remember what losing his mother did to your father. It's a nasty business." She took a breath. "What about this other Anna then?"

"She said Doctor Laing told her to put what happened behind her, to forget it since it must've been a hysteric episode, but I don't believe it was. And I don't believe the recommendation that placed her in my care was written with anything but malice."

"Someone put her there deliberately?"

"I think so. I can't prove it but I think the person who did it… I think they raped her and wanted her kept quiet so if she ever did tell anyone they wouldn't believe her."

"They'd think her delusional."

"Is that why you never told anyone?"

"Oh Jack." His mother shook her head. "I could've lost my position, your father would've lost his reputation with mine, people wouldn't have served me in shops or the market… The reputation of the house I served might've gone to tatters. There wasn't protection for me if I had spoken up and no one would've believed me. Much like your patient they would've said I brought it on my myself for being friendly or encouraging him. More to the point, I didn't want you father to break the man in two with his bare hands."

"Because you liked the man?"

"Because your father would've hanged as a murderer and I would rather live with secret shame than without him." She let out a breath. "Life's complicated for women Jack. Always has been, hopefully won't always be. Your job, if you don't mind me trodding all over the advice from the fancy teachers and lecturers you had in school, is to make her believe you're on her side. She needs to know she's not alone in this because that's the worst feeling of all."

"What do I do?"

"Let her trust you and she'll tell you in her own time. Don't pressure or bully her before then. She'll never tell you if she thinks you're just trying to get a point or a some kind of breakthrough."

"Never."

"Good." She turned to the clock. "Heavens above if you don't leave now you'll miss the bus and then where will your patients be?"

"Loose in the madhouse." John smiled, helping her stand and grabbing his coat. "Thank you for dinner Mother."

"Don't thank me. Just come more often." She hugged him tightly, brushing at his jacket. "As tall as your father. How was I the only normal one in a house full of giants?"

"Gwen's not tall."

"Gwen's still taller than me." She went on her tiptoes and John bent to let her kiss his cheek. "And remember what I said. Trust first. She needs that more than she needs your advice, whatever that would be."

"I won't forget." John took his hat from the peg and stood in the doorway. The flicker across his mother's eyes stopped him. "What is it?"

"It's just… Then, standing in the door. You looked like your father." John bent to hug his mother again, her small sobs muffled in his coat. "Sometimes I miss him so terribly."

"I do too." John pulled back, wiping a tear away. "But he's not left us. Not entirely and not forever."

"I know." She put the back of her hand to her eyes, brushing the remaining tears away. "And soon I'll be with him again. Now scoot, before you miss the bus."

"Yes ma'am." John kissed her on the cheek one last time and jogged for the bus with his one leg still dragging a bit in his gait.


	14. Demons

"Doctor Bates?" He looked up, pulling his pen back to avoid blotting the page in his journal.

'Yes Student Nurse Crawley?"

"I've got a package for you. It's express from Doctor Laing."

"Capital." John capped the pen and came around the desk, taking the package from Sybil and testing the weight before peeling back the wrapping to see a stack of pages. "Perfectly timed."

"Doctor?"

"Hm?" John did not look over his shoulder, stuffing the wrapping in the bin and thumbing through the pages to separate them out for the respective patients.

"You said you wanted to know when the Matron was being…"

John turned on his heel, leaving the pages on his desk. "Right now?"

"She's got Ms. Bancroft in an awful state sir."

John followed Sybil from the room, his coat billowing out behind him like her apron strings flapped off her skirt. They hurried through the corridors, dodging around patients and nurses, until they reached the women's short-term ward. As they entered John caught sight of Matron Sadler wielding a pair of scissors and bearing down on Anna's position.

Hurrying over he caught her arm and hauled her back. She stumbled and he only just caught them before they hit the ground. The scissors cut down and John reeled back, putting his fingers to his cheek where it split open with a sting.

"What the hell do you think you're-" Matron Sadler stopped, her eyes narrowing as John held himself to his full height, a hand pressing his handkerchief to the cut. "I trust you know how it works in my wards, Doctor."

"And I trust that these patients are to be treated with dignity and respect."

"They can't even shit on their own, most of them, and the others of them are crawling with bedbugs, lice, and God knows what else and you want me to treat them with dignity?" She cackled a laugh, brandishing the scissors at him. "It's not what you do when you're dealing with nutters and mad hatters like all of them."

"Then perhaps we need to reevaluate the staffing on this ward, Matron." John checked the blood on his handkerchief before adjusting it and pressing against his face again. "Because in this hospital, so long as I'm the psychiatrist in charge, we're going to treat the patients as they deserve."

"Deserve?" Matron Sadler scoffed, "The deserve to be locked in dark rooms."

"We're not in a Shakespearean drama or the sixteen hundreds. We're in the modern age, Matron, and if you don't like that then I'll accept your resignation on my desk first thing in the morning. Do I make myself clear?"

They stared one another down, the fire in the cold blue eyes glaring back at him settling to a smolder. "Crystal."

"Good. Now explain what you were doing with that pair of shears?"

"I was preparing to cut Ms. Bancroft's hair since there's been an outbreak of lice recently." Matron Sadler shot a look toward Edith in the corner. "The mourning mother over there is probably the culprit."

"Or yourself." Sybil finally spoke up, her fists bawled at her sides, shaking.

"Excuse me." Matron Sadler advanced on Sybil but John stepped in her way.

"I think Student Nurse Crawley deserves to be heard." He faced her, "What do you mean?"

"I've found lice in the general nurses' ward. If we're cutting the patients' hair to stop the spread then we'll have to cut ours too. Baths, shampoos, the whole mess of it." She shot her own glare at Matron Sadler. "If she's convinced it's not here then let me get a comb and look."

John checked the handkerchief again and then dropped it to his side. "Matron?"

"Fine." She shoved her scissors into the pocket of her apron. "If you're so convinced then we'll check everyone in the morning. But that means anyone found with it gets clipping."

"And anyone without can keep it." Sybil bent over Anna's head, pulling gently through the strands as everyone looked on. After a moment she stood and shook her head. "Ms. Bancroft's clean. It's what I'd expect given her bed and space are always neat and tidy. She'll not need to lose her hair today."

"Then you can finish the lice checks for this ward." Matron Sadler sneered at them and stalked off down the ward, slamming the door at the end hard enough to make a few of the women jump.

They immediately set to tittering amongst themselves when she left and John lowered his voice, stepping closer to Sybil and Anna. "I do hope I've not caused any trouble with her."

"What's done is done if you have." Sybil sighed, shivering a second before managing a bout of nervous laughter. "I've never stood up to her before. It felt… exhilarating."

"Let's not make it a habit. I'm not sure I could find another Matron for this place better than her and I'm not willing to chance it on those worse." John brushed at his face and then winced. "I'd better clean this up."

"Let me help?" Sybil offered but Jon shook his head.

"You've still got potential lice victims to check. Best not anger her further this evening." John went to the washrooms at the end of the ward, waving at the patients who called out to him on his way.

When he reached it, he turned a handle and pulled his hands back from the cold water out of the tap. He tested it but the water never warmed, the icy stream continuing to pummel his fingers in the moments he risked testing it. John jumped when a voice called out to him from the entry.

"The water is as warm as it'll get unless you want to boil it on a stove." Anna came over, taking the bloodied handkerchief from his hand and soaked it to wash out the blood. She wrung it out and then dabbed it on his face. "It doesn't seem to be deep. Just… superficial."

"Much experience with cuts?"

"I had a sister and we got ourselves into a few scrapes here and there." Anna wiped at his face, "I think it's mostly alright but I'm not a doctor."

"I'll get a nurse to look at it later." John took the handkerchief, washing out the remaining blood. "Thank you."

"Perhaps I should be thanking you." She smiled, "You saved my hair."

"It's rather beautiful hair." John immediately bit his tongue. "I'm sorry, that was… inappropriate."

"A compliment like that is never in poor taste, Doctor." Anna sighed, "And thank you again. There are few vestiges left of my dignity and I'd like to keep mine."

"I understand." John opened his mouth to speak again but stopped himself. "If Matron Sadler happens to…"

"I will let you know if she overreaches." Anna nodded at him and left the washroom.

John wrung out his handkerchief again and folded it in his fingers to walk back to his office. Hanging it over the bowl on the little washbasin in the corner of his office, John wiped his fingers on a towel and turned back to the pages on his desk. He shuffled through them and found the pages labeled for Anna.

Sorting them together, shuffling the dates in order, John took them to the sofa and began to read.

 _Ms. Anna May Bancroft does not fit the description of her recommendation at all. She sits primly on the sofa and in out first interview she only mentioned her rather violent retrieval. It seems the police, receiving the original of the message they so kindly typed for me, entered her house without sufficient warning and seized her rather abruptly. I am inclined to believe our police chief, in his determination to perform well at his duties, was rather aggressive in this._

 _Or else they're worried about "letting one like she is" out in society. At least that's what they told me when they brought her here. Something about it didn't sit right with me but I'm a servant of my duties._

 _As it is, I'm finding it hard to reconcile the Anna Bancroft the letter suggests she is with the woman before me. Her back is straight, she quotes from books and texts befitting her higher education and her liberal arts training, and engages in lively debate with a few of the staff. The Matron has already written her up twice for distracting her student nurses but knowing Vera Sadler it's simply an attempt to make life difficult for the student nurses or for Ms. Bancroft. I may be a man but I know what jealousy looks like._

John placed the page in the open file on his desk, making his own notes in a different pen beside Doctor Laing's writing. His cheek stung as he went to smile at the comment about jealousy and he winced, waiting for the moment of pain to pass before continuing. He noted the event from that day along the margins of the page and then again on his own pad beside him.

Picking up the next page, John continued reading.

 _In my professional opinion, Ms. Bancroft does not suffer from sexual delusions. Her repetition of a rather gruesome story inclines me to believe she might be prone to an exaggerated imagination or even a degree of hysteria but not the kind of base proclivities that has out police chief worried for the moral standing of our village. I believe she saw something and has placed herself in the role and identified the stranger she saw with the only man of means she knows._

 _According to her, Father Green assaulted her. When I press her about the details of the encounter she tends to shy away, hence my belief she's fabricated the story to cover a horrible memory. Perhaps another man accosted her or she saw someone in a similar position and her mind seeks to remedy it. After only three interviews she remains adamant that these events are not the imagined reality I suggest but what really happened._

 _I dare not press further now. I would hate for her to retreat in herself, as I fear she might. From her reactions in even our simplest interactions, she's disinclined to believe I'm on her side. I believe she has a severe mistrust of authority. Perhaps something to do with her discovery of the lie of her parentage?_

John snorted, making a note about his own opinions on the matter and tucking the paper in order with the other. A sound echoed through his door and he paused, pen raised, but it did not repeat. He turned to the next page.

 _After another attempt to get Ms. Bancroft to give me the full details of what she experienced I'm left with only two options. The first is that she is mad and dreamed up something as depraved as this because she does suffer sexual delusions. The second, that she did suffer the hand of someone she trusted and knows there is nothing to be done about it. Either way, her story staggers me. No, chills me to the bone. Even writing it makes my hands shake._

 _What she finally told me, with the stillest expression I've ever yet beheld on her expressive face and devoid of any emotions I would've suspected given the tale she had to tell (angry, fear, sorrow, or even frustration), proceeded as follows._

 _There was a large party held at the Crawley house. Given her rift with the family (something she describes as more of a temporary separation given her personal confusion over her place in the world) she was reluctant to attend but social functions and her responsibilities to the country overruled her trepidation about the evening. She said that during a rather riotous band number she felt lightheaded in the heat and took to the balcony for some air. It was there she encountered Father Green._

 _In our meetings over the last few weeks I've come to surmise that she and Father Green were no more friendly than vicar and parishioner. Having never met Father Green, despite his visits here to counsel with some of his parishioners within our walls, I might be inclined to believe he is the one suffering delusions but as a man of the cloth I find it almost impossible to believe he would be so tempted and depraved as to attack a woman of standing. To attack any woman._

 _But that is what she claims. That while she sought air from the stuffy confines of the party, Father Green pressed her with physical advances of a romantic nature. She did not take the romance or the suggestion of such as enticing and, by her words, tried to repel him. Unfortunately he continued and given the rain earlier in the evening she slipped. I saw the small scar, the remains of the injury to the left side of her head, and she claims it only dazed her when I tried to suggest her imagination filled in the gaps of the evening as fueled by her fears and pain._

 _Her lucidity, especially in our sessions, is not to be doubted and I'm inclined to agree that what she endured she remembers better than she wishes. I wanted to confer with our nurses but she refused inspection. I guess the examination might prove too difficult for her mind to withstand given the trauma already endured._

 _She went into no specifics so I can only guess that the violence of that act harmed her greatly. Physically as well as emotionally and mentally. Her hands shook when she told me the few details she spared and I marveled that it was her only outward sign of duress while her composure was so pristinely maintained. If not for her breeding I might suspect she was an actress of a higher caliber than I've ever seen._

 _And such impeccable breeding continued for she did not cry or storm or rage. Instead, once the attack finished, she pulled herself to a corner before slipping away from the party. She merely returned to her home and her life as best she could. For obvious reasons she did not continue to attend church and only two weeks later found herself the State's ward here in our hospital._

 _For as much as I thought, at first, she might be lying, I'm now convinced it was too real a telling to be anything but reality. Whether it was her reality I've ever to fully decide. Her separation from the act rings too much like a witnessed event but I know something horrible has taken place. Perhaps, in our next meeting, I might persuade her to tell me who really endured this._

John sighed, noting the last page was only a scribble about failing to convince Anna of anything when she adamantly maintained her suffering over another's. He flipped through the rest of the notes but only found fragments, much like his own, from the sessions alter recorded into the more concise notes complied before him.

With a rub at his eyes, blinking at the spots there, John chewed the inside of his cheek. "How could you not believe her?"

* * *

John followed Anna into the house, hanging his jacket on the hook he claimed as his own. "I just want you to realize it was your idea."

"Not like you complained." Anna teased, tugging on his tie to get him close enough to plant a kiss on his lips before dancing away. "And nothing happened."

"She saw us."

"If she had she would've had to report it." Anna dangled her shoes as she used the banister to support her lean back off the stairs. "But she let us off with a warning."

"Lucky us."

"I don't know. The idea of you and I sharing a cell might've been fun."

"I don't know if you could appreciate my dexterity in a cell." John responded, swatting her ass as he followed her up the stairs. "Especially given they would've put us in different cells."

"Take the fun out it why don't you?" Anna dodged him, dropping her shoes near her wardrobe. "Although… It does give me a thought."

"What?" John unlaced his shoes, leaving his damp tie to hang from the back of the chair.

"Well," Anna went to her chest of drawers, drawing out material that reflected the light from the ceiling fixture. "I've got these scarves."

"I can see that." John removed his socks, hanging them to dry as well before tipping his shoes up to try and drain the water making the material squeak. "What about them?"

"Since we can't have a cell, I figure we can make some restraints of our own."

John coughed, catching himself before his previously precarious balancing act dropped him on his face. "We can what?"

"Don't tell me you've never done a power play before."

"Can't say it was in my repertoire." John shook his head, "Not a bondage fan."

"It's delayed gratification ad I promise to leave the leather whip out of it."

"You're what now?"

"I'm kidding." Anna draped one of the scarves over his neck, holding on the ends to draw him toward the bed with it. "These won't hurt and if you want, when we're done, I'll kiss it all better for you."

John flexed his jaw and then sighed. "I'm just… I don't know what to do."

"That's the easy part." Anna kissed the tip of his nose. "You've just got to be naked and allow me to get you all worked up until I make sure we're both satisfied."

"With rules like that how can I say no?" John went to kiss her but Anna flicked the scarf from his neck and wrapped it over his wrist. "Now you're not playing fair."

"Fair enough." She grinned at him. "This is a bit of a dominance game so I hope you don't mind allowing me to tell you what to do."

"It all seems to my benefit, doesn't it?" John relaxed his arm and she took the scarf from his wrist. "Now what?"

"Now," Anna put a finger over his lips. "You stay very, very quiet."

Her fingers opened the buttons on his shirt, the damp patches sticking to his skin but she kissed at those until John's chest tightened. Anna pulled first one wrist and then the other into her hands so she could undo his cuffs and slipped it from him as if he were no more than her rag doll. John let his whole body sag a bit when her fingers trilled over him to stop himself trying to catch her as she danced around him like a flirting nymph.

His trousers posed her no problems when she tipped him back onto the bed and yanked from his ankles to leave them bunched in her hands. And his boxers were no more difficult than that as she shucked them off him so he lay on her bed, naked as the day he was born. She leaned over him, supporting herself on her hands by his head, and kissed him softly.

John responded after a moment, caught a bit off guard by her approach, but when he tried to follow her lead she pulled away. He made a sound in the back of his throat but Anna just laughed. With a wag of her finger she pulled back and pointed to the wall.

Shifting into place, and rumpling the duvet a bit in his efforts, John found a spot and shrugged. He grinned, noting the lack of bedposts or other places she could tie the ends of her tempting scarves. But his grin faded a bit as Anna's stretched wider, pulling the scarves from the drawer and crawling onto the bed.

"It'd be a mistake to underestimate me." She whispered, wrapping one scarf around his wrist and then around the other as she positioned his arms with a bit of slack behind his back. "This isn't my first time."

He hissed through his teeth, the twitch of his hips moving his rousing member against her. Anna only smiled at it, intentionally brushing closer to him as she pulled the other scarf between her hands. The silky material teased over his face and she wrapped it twice around his eyes before tightening it at the back of his head.

"You didn't need to speak, just nod yes or no." John turned his head toward the sound, the filtered light and the pattern on the scarf shadowing everything into fuzzy outlines. "Is the tie at your wrists too tight?"

John shook his head.

"Can you still move your arms?"

He shrugged his shoulders and Anna laughed.

"Can you move them enough to make sure blood's getting where it needs to go? I don't want to cut off any circulation."

John tested the movement of his arms and nodded.

"Now answer this one truthfully." Anna shifted on him and John jumped when her breath caressed the exposed part of his ear. "Are you aroused yet?"

John dug his heels into the mattress to buck his hips toward her. Anna only laughed and teethed his earlobe before trailing kisses along his jaw to his mouth. Her lips settled on his and John followed her.

His eyes strained against the blindfold and all John could make out when he risked a look down past his nose was the fabric of Anna's dress. But the fabric that barely contained what he knew were her otherwise exposed breasts. Instinct had him reaching for her but the tie on his wrist caught the middle of his back.

The silk stretched a bit and with effort John could free himself but the impact reminded him of the purpose. Anna's lips left his in an instant and the only sound was their breathing. With the wait John tried to tilt his neck to get a better view but soon all he could make out was the fabric of her dress.

Settling back, Anna's weight shifting on him again, John waited for her lips to return. But she moved her lips down his chest. Each lick of her tongue gave John a shiver in his muscles until they almost convulsed on their own while waiting in the unbearable agony of her teasing.

The material of her dress ran over his skin and sent all the hair on his body standing on end. It rasped and glided, running over his legs and his erection in smooth motions and then a rush as Anna's weight left him. He tried to move on the bed, wrists tugging at the binding keeping them together, but her hand on his shoulder kept him in place.

Her lips met his a moment later and somewhere above the pounding of blood in his ears he thought he heard her dress hit the floor. Her weight settled on him again but moved to rest somewhere near his ankles. As John leaned forward to try and find her, Anna's mouth settled over his erection and she swirled her tongue over his head.

No orders or desires to increase the suspense could keep John silent. He groaned, head bumping the wall behind him, and rolled his hips. Unable to see, John lost himself to the suction and heat of her mouth while her fingers massaged the quivering muscles of his thighs between fondling caresses of his sack.

Rutting his hips toward her, John tried to relieve some of the tension- any of the tension- in his body but Anna gave no quarter. She stroked and squeezed and slid over him until John croaked out what he hoped was a coherent word. At that she paused and John thought she might exercise mercy.

Instead Anna untied his wrists but only so she could bring them in front of his chest. She redid the ties, kissing his hands when his fingers trailed over her skin and hair as they fell within his grasp. Her nonverbal urging put him on his back and Anna's hands moved over his head to leave him flat enough on her bed his feet hung off the edge.

John had no time to comprehend her plan before something impacted his shoulder. The shadows above him darkened and John heard Anna's voice whispering to him. "If you want, you can use your tongue now. If not… That's up to you."

Without any additional invitation, John licked and recognized the taste. He followed it, trying to move his hands to help him but all he could feel was Anna's weight settling over him. And then her mouth.

It took no time at all for John to lose whatever self-control he thought he accumulated over the years of his life. His mouth worked to give back all the pleasure he received but he came before Anna did. Even with her slight weight settle on his chest, John struggled to breathe through the riot of colors floating past his eyes and the short-circuiting synapses in his brain. But his primal side continued mechanical motion until Anna's climax hit his tongue.

He was certain there was no energy left in his body as Anna's weight left him for a third time. But his ears perked up at the rip of a package and then his hands twitched when she released them from the scarf. Another second and John blinked in the dim light, trying to focus his vision.

Anna smiled at him, taking advantage of his distraction, and turned her back to him as she set to work again. Only her hands worked this time, rolling the condom on as slowly as she possibly could, and forcing John's almost lifeless hands to try and work as smoothly as she did. But it took until she positioned herself up on her knees before John could even respond.

His hands held her ass as she sank down and settled until he bottomed out inside her. John struggled to breathe and Anna's nails dug into his legs. He sat up, crunching his fists in the duvet to get himself vertical, and shuffled them to the edge of the bed.

When his feet hit the ground he finally found the leverage and control he craved. Each thrust rocked them together and Anna met each one with movements of her own. John's lips took advantage of the opportunity to use his sight and laid trails over her exposed skin. Her shoulders and neck soon glinted with perspiration and he chased each bead before it could make a trail down her back.

She gasped and reached a hand behind her to hold his neck, keeping him close to her neck until she managed to maneuver her mouth close enough to his. They swallowed one another's moans and John rutted harder against her. The scorching clutch of her walls around him drove him to the edge of sanity but he worked his fingers to her tragically neglected clit.

A few swift rubs and she let kiss end with her finish. John continued lathering her in attention and adoration, stroking inside and out until she fell into another orgasm that timed with his. Their bodies shuddered and convulsed until John collapsed back onto her bed.

Anna pushed herself off first, careful of their mutual sensitivity, and then John found the strength to dispose of the condom. He caught a look at himself in the mirror and turned back to Anna. "Where's… Where's…"

"I'm good enough to get it all." Anna winked at him, not moving from where she flopped on her bed. "Although I think I just lost a stone."

"Best workout I've had in an age." John agreed, crawling next to her on the bed and settling. "I'm curious where you learned this little game."

"Gwen was telling me she heard one of the murses talking about it once."

John frowned, "What's a 'murse'?"

"Male nurse." Anna shrugged, "Apparently he was a bit of the adventurous type and dated this stripper… Long and the short of it, he heard about it, told someone else, Gwen heard it and told me and then I had the chance to try it on you."

"Did your last boyfriend get any chances at it?"

Anna winced. "Sort of… He wasn't into being submissive."

"I didn't mind."

"I noticed." Anna kissed his shoulder, the closest part of him within reach. "Maybe next time we switch it up?"

"Not sure I could take the idea of you trembling under me."

"Don't give me ideas," Anna closed her eyes, "I'm too exhausted."

"Then we'll sleep and think about how to turn the tables tomorrow." John grinned and they both lay back until only their easy breathing sounded in the room.


	15. Nightmares

John turned another page, pulling his legs under him as he adjusted on the sofa. The light flicked on overhead and he covered his eyes a moment, catching sight of Anna in her dressing gown. He grinned, a bit sheepish, and held up the journal.

"First to the finish?"

"I had that in mind for an entirely different context." Anna settled on the other end of the sofa, careful to keep her dressing gown wrapped around her. "Go on then, what've I missed?"

"He's read through all of Doctor Laing's old notes and is convinced Doctor Laing's a good man but he's not all… I don't know." John shrugged, "Doctor Bates is ahead of his time, to be sure, but Doctor Laing is the product of his time."

"How'd you mean?"

"He doesn't want to believe that a respected man in the community would take advantage of a woman. He doesn't want to believe things like that happen to anyone. And he definitely doesn't want to believe she's sexually deviant so he's caught between a rock and hard place."

"Wage war on what side?" Anna ticked up her fingers, "Society, her, the Church, or everything he holds dear."

"For as much as the Sixties were the start of something new, I'm getting the distinct impression they're better left as is." John flicked through the pages. "He gives a lot of thought about his father."

"As a son don't you think about your father?"

"Not this much but then my dad and I were never really close."

"You mentioned he died at forty-two." Anna closed her eyes a moment, "Heart attack, yes?"

"Good memory."

"Medical diagnoses are programed to stick in my brain." Anna smiled and nodded at him, "But you weren't close?"

"Not like my Mum and me. We got on, had good conversations, but I was in the Army when he died and… I don't know. I feel like he was waiting until I was an adult to really get to know me and then, when he had the chance, he couldn't take it.

"That's tragic." Anna pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them. "I guess the biggest question is whether or not you wanted to know him better."

"I do now. Especially reading this." John held up the journal. "But he wasn't a writer. He was one of those people who believed in hard work and that's what he did. He was the epitome of Boxer from _Animal Farm_. If he could build it, didn't matter what it was, he'd get his hands on it."

"Master craftsman?"

"Absolutely." John shook his head, "He could see something in wood and then carve it out. I never had that talent."

"I don't know." Anna tried to hide her smirk, "I think you're pretty good with your hands."

"I don't think he'd consider me giving someone an orgasm an achievement."

"Well," Anna shrugged, "Not one you'd tell him about."

"We're getting off topic."

"Yes," Anna clapped her hands together. "You wanted to get to know him better."

"The closest I got to him was the time he was helping me with a scouting project and we built this play area in a public park. It was the only time I've ever felt we spoke the same language." John glanced down at the journal. "Reading this, I wish my relationship was as close with my father as his was. But, more than that, I wish I had something to help me get to know my father."

"What would you want to know about him?"

"I guess if he was more than the fear and the pride and the quiet dignity." John hurried to explain. "As a boy you idolize your father. They're your world. You want to be them but there's still a touch of fear about it all. In my house he was the disciplinarian and that can be terrifying."

"Too many swats to the butt?"

"He beat me black and blue on only three distinct occasions so it was more that I was terrified of disappointing him. I wanted him proud of me and I'd forget that he already was." John shrugged, "And he was just a quiet man, like me, so talking to him was difficult. He carried himself like an old soldier, he worked manual labor his whole life, and his dream afternoon was building something and then reading a book about something I didn't care about."

"Difficult gap to bridge."

"I wish I'd done more to bridge it." John scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Sometimes I honestly wondered what my mother saw in him. I didn't understand what a woman as vivacious and outgoing as she was saw in the quiet pillar of a man in the background."

"Opposites attract."

"I guess." John held up the journal. "Not like him and Anna B. though."

"Anna B?"

"He always refers to her, respectfully, as 'Ms. Bancroft' and since I can't keep calling her 'Anna Prime' or 'Anna 2.0' it's the only way to differentiate between the two of you."

"Firstly, I'd be Anna 2.0," Anna pursed her lips at him. "Secondly, why not just call her 'Anna'?"

"You're both Anna."

"Yes but I exist in the here and now and unless you're calling me by name, which hasn't been necessary when we're the only people in the room, I'd say you're safe."

"Alright then," John opened the journal. "Our Doctor Bates has been talking about her rather evasive nature and he's pretty sure he can find a solution for it."

"Maybe he shouldn't."

"I don't know," John flipped through the pages. "He's got a lovely entry about a dinner he had with his mother."

"Read it out?"

John cleared his throat.

" _July 11, 1965_

 _Mother invited me to dinner. It wrenches my soul that I can't go more often when she's all alone in the house. With Gwen and her husband living their lives and Robbie away in America, it makes the house so quiet for her. Two rambunctious boys and a very opinionated girl made up for all the quiet brooding my father did. Mother loved it. Loved the noise and the bustle and all of us that she took care of. It… It pains me to realize that perhaps I'm not taking care of her enough. When her hand rested on mine, wrinkled as it was with use and age, I forgot that eventually she'll rely on me to take care of her._

 _We were lucky, in a way, that when Father died he went in his sleep. His mind was still in one piece and to his last evening he kept his wry humor and that unalterable spirit. Everything about him was still him in the end. I fear the idea that my mother, in her British determinism, might find her mind leaving her before her spirit does._

 _Everything was alright this evening, so I'm really just fear mongering, but I do worry. I would hate to watch my mother cease to be my mother in her last moments. To hold her hand and risk her not remembering who I am. Or perhaps thinking I'm my father. I know she says we look alike and often references the only photograph of us together; the one taken with me in my military dress and my father with his dependable cane. He always said it was like looking at a version of himself from twenty years before and I usually said nothing. It's different to look in the mirror and see something you remember. It's worse to look in and see what you've yet to be._

 _But the evening, in general, was a much-needed break. I don't think I realized the pressure and the irritation of the hospital on me. Fighting Matron tooth and nail for the shreds of dignity left to people who depend on us to clean them, brush their hair, and even help them take a bog. I don't think she realizes what it means to be in a state where you're completely incapable of taking care of yourself. Perhaps that's why she's lost her humanity… the toll was too taxing. But that would mean she's anything like SN Crawley and we all know that's impossible._

 _As it is, the person who worries me the most is Ms. Bancroft. She's been polite and genial in our meetings but I fear she's shut herself off from me. I mentioned having read Doctor Laing's notes and she immediately shut herself off from me. The rest of our meeting that day was perfunctory at best, antagonistic as worst._

 _I've tried to take Mother's advice, from dinner last month, but I think knowing the details of the attack just made it worst. It's like someone seeing into the private details of your life and it could be she believes I pity her. I don't think she understanding the intricacies of what I tried to communicate but then how could she? After everyone has told her she's lying or projecting why should she believe me?_

 _More to the point, how could I really know what happened. Factually I know the moon is millions of miles of the earth but since I will never go there does it matter? Do I really know? Even knowing the details, as many as my Mother spared, of her attack doesn't mean I know any better what she endured. The loneliness of those weeks keeping that secret to herself and then doing all she could to avoid others knowing. The burden must've weighed so heavily on her._

 _They say we live in a new age but what kind of age is it where a woman goes for help and only finds cruelty? Or when she tells the truth and is branded a liar? What a world where a woman is punished for a man's sins and held accountable for his actions without reprieve? The kind of world I, unfortunately, must try to navigate. The world where I can guess all the details or know them from the notes others left and still have nothing to offer her but platitudes. Even if I'm determined to remove her from this facility and get her back to the real world… will the real world even accept her?_

 _That, for all my worry, is none of my business. I like to think it is but I've got to remember what Doctor Hughes said at the training hospital: though we claim to have the power to heal minds, we are not God. We can only do so much and pray He will do the rest. I've prayed much more than I used to because I hope He can heal her. I can't._

 _Given her lucidity and the lack of evidence, I'm submitting her exit paperwork tomorrow. She should be back in society by the end of the month. I don't know if I should tell her, as I don't want to get her hopes up and she's suffered so much already. But I owe her the little hope I can try and give… don't I?_

"Wait," Anna put up a hand and John went to turn the page. "He put through to have her taken from the hospital in July of sixty-five?"

"Based on his journal he did."

"Then why do her records go until sixty-six? That's when she disappeared."

"Maybe someone got in the way?" John turned the pages, skimming them. "Ah, our favorite vicar raised his scaly head."

"And what'd the bastard do now?"

"Raised hell."

* * *

John entered the room, buttoning his coat and then extending his hand. "It's good to see you Robert."

"And you John." The gray-haired man shook firmly. "How's my daughter doing?"

"She's a dream. I wish all of my nurses were as skilled and dedicated as she is." John shrugged. "She's a strong one and she's got the dedication of a nurse twice her age."

"I do hope she's not still doing this when she's twice her age." Robert shuddered. "She needs to find herself a man and settle down. Have children and experience married life."

"That's not a guarantee for everyone these days Robert."

"I'd like to think it will be for my daughter." Robert straightened as others entered the room. "Time to put on another hat."

"It's why we're all here." John took a seat as Robert greeted the other men and sat at a table. John's seat put him directly in front of them and he perched on the edge of his seat, lip twitching as the tightness of his coat threatened to restrict his airflow.

"We'd like to call this meeting to order." The older man, with a wheezing mustache, knocked a wooden block against the table and the chatter of the other men calmed. "We're here to discuss the release of Ms. Anna Crawley."

"It's Anna Bancroft, sir." John clarified and endured the glares of the men. "She's changed her name and all of her files and records in my possession refer to her by that name."

"Ms. Anna Crawley," The man persisted and John rolled his eyes. "Entered the hospital on the thirteenth of February of this year under worries that she suffers from sexual delusions and other deviant proclivities that make her a danger to society and herself. It was the recommendation of her vicar, Father Alexander Green, that she enter the asylum for her health and safety and has been there ever since."

He looked around the table, "Is Father Green here today?"

"He said he was coming." A dark-haired man down the table spoke, "I think he might've gotten held up."

"He's your friend Mr. Foyle, I suspect you'd know best." The head of the board nodded, his hands shaking a bit as he reached for a glass of water.

"I wouldn't call him my friend, Mr. Murray." Mr. Foyle grimaced, "He's an acquaintance, nothing more."

"Be that as it may," Mr. Murray cleared his throat and spoke over whatever else Mr. Foyle had to say about Father Green. "He's late and he wanted to be involved in this meeting."

"Excuse me," John endured another round of glares and a slightly panicked look from Robert. "Why is Father Green involved in this process at all?"

"He's an important member of this community and he's involved in the affairs of our society. He's the only party listed as interested in the care of Ms. Crawley."

"What of Ms. Bancroft's adopted family?" John looked around, "Surely they've been informed as to her incarceration and her state in hospital."

The eyes about the table all fell on Robert and he shook his head. "She's a third cousin. I've no idea if there's been contact at all."

"I know Ms. Bancroft writes letters to her sister, Violet Crawley, but she's never received a reply." John waited, "I'd like to contact Ms. Crawley on her behalf and-"

"Mr. Bates-"

"Doctor Bates," John interrupted Mr. Murray and the table fell into a deadly silence. "It's Doctor Bates, Mr. Murray."

"We're not in the habit of disturbing the peace and involving people in these matters when it could upset them."

"But you'll bring Father Green to a meeting like this?" John scoffed, "I've got the distinct impression, gentlemen, you've no interest in what I've come here to say at all and this is for show to justify the money you take as members of this board."

The outcry had John blinking as it rang in his ears. He opened his mouth to say something else when the door opened and Father Green entered. His posture deferred to the men but John's jaw tightened at the sight of him.

"I do apologize for being late. A parishioner needed additional guidance and I could do naught but pay him the heed our Lord would."

John cracked his knuckles with as tightly as he clenched his fist. Father Green sat next to him and the waft of cheap spirits and an even cheaper perfume came off him. Leaning over, as the men at the table called themselves to order, John whispered to him.

"I'm sure the Lord commanded us to eat with sinners but He wasn't in the habit of schtupping them."

"Excuse me?"

"I've been on the battlefield, Father. I know the smell of cheap whiskey."

"The parishioner's a drinker."

"And he needed you to drink with him?" John raised an eyebrow. "Is he also in the habit of wearing perfume too? Because I can't quite find a reason you'd be drenched in scent to the point you smell like a tart's boudoir."

Father Green had no time to argue back as the sound of Murray's makeshift gavel sounded. "Now that Father Green's joined us, I believe we should discuss the matter at hand." He choked something in his throat. "If you would begin, Doctor Bates?"

John stood, sighing slightly at the ease of his coat against his waist. "Thank you gentlemen. As it stands I've nothing more to say than that I find the justifications for Ms. Bancroft's incarceration to be erroneous. She's not mad and she's in no way delusional. If anything she's the sanest person I've ever met and deserves her freedom with immediate effect."

"Can you really suggest that for a sexual deviant?" Father Green stood and John stared him down. "I can't give details of what happens in Confession but-"

"Your opinions on this matter, Doctor Green, are irrelevant." John cut him off. "She's not seen you in three months and I'd like to put forward the motion to continue your restriction from the hospital."

"I've other parishioners in there that need Confession and Communion. You denying them saving ordinances-"

"I'm worried about the stability of their minds if you're the one seeing to them." John's eyes narrowed. "I know what you did to Ms. Bancroft and I'll be damned if I risk the patients in my hospital."

"I've done nothing-"

"The reason, gentlemen," John faced the table, "That Father Green recommended Ms. Bancroft for internment was because he raped her and thought she might tell others about it. To avoid the scandal and the possible public response he declared her sexual deviant and had her put somewhere no one would believe her. It was all to protect himself and I refuse to condone that woman's continued suffering at his hands."

If his comments about the their purpose for being there sparked outrage, the accusations John laid at Father Green's feet led to a veritable conflagration of response. Everyone shouted over one another as Father Green, loudest of them all, maintained his innocence. John waited a few minutes before knocking on the table for himself.

"Regardless of what Father Green's done, I demand we make preparations of Ms. Bancroft's immediate release."

"Given what you've just told us I believe we need to keep her there for her safety." A woman, the only one on the board, spoke. "Her mind's obviously been affected by something and if Father Green is the culprit then perhaps her mind needs more aid to make it better."

"I've already stated she's sane. Every meeting I've had with her since I took on the role as doctor there confirms her sanity."

"But she's still fragile." The woman continued and Mr. Murray nodded at her.

"Perhaps Ms. Braithwaite is right. It would be irresponsible for us to suggest her removal at this time. Until the accusations are clarified it could be more harm to her if she's released."

"She's at risk there." John stared between the group, hands quivering as he tried to tamp down his rage. "There's… There's nothing she needs from the hospital except to leave it."

"Do you hold so little respect for your own profession, Mr. Bates?"

John clenched his teeth. "Those who are healthy have no need for a doctor, Mr. Murray. In the words of our Lord, the Physician is needed by those who are sick."

"And you hold to that?"

"Ms. Bancroft's only illness was this pestilential man." John jutted a finger at Father Green. "Once he's behind bars, where deviants and violent assaulters belong, then I've no more concerns for her health or safety."

"You can't accuse a man without proof."

"Is Ms. Bancroft's word not enough?" John studied the faces of those at the table, the sinking sensation in his chest puncturing his stomach. "Is my word not enough?"

"It's the word of a woman from a mental institution, Mr. Bates." Mr. Murray shook his head. "Though we will uphold your suggestion to restrict the access of Father Green until these… rumors can be investigated."

"Rumors?" John gave a derisive snort. "Because his society is better believed than Ms. Bancroft's?"

"Ms. Crawley was the illegitimate child of an American GI and a woman of loose morals, Mr. Bates. The fact that her adopted parents took pity on the poor bastard is-"

"Mr. Murray!" Robert interrupted him, standing up from the table. "I've never had the need to take control of this board before now but your comments and judgment in this are as clouded as I've ever seen them. Ms. Bancroft is a member of my family, extended or otherwise, and she'll be treated with respect. The matter of her birth is inconsequential to her honor and her dignity, both of which you've endeavored to tear to shreds before our very eyes."

He took a breath, "I vote that she gain immediate release and this parasite," Robert shot a withering look at Father Green, who had the good sense to cower under his gaze. "Be denied access to the patients at that hospital."

"We know that you're inclined to side with Mr. Bates given your niece takes up one of the beds at the-"

"It's 'Doctor', as he's told you, and even if Edith weren't there I'd still ask that we give this man the respect and the attention he deserves." Robert turned to the others at the table but they refused to meet his eyes. "Does anyone agree?"

"If it's a vote," Ms. Braithwaite spoke up again, her voice quiet but holding a menacing edge that gave John a shiver as if a snake slithered over his back. "Then we'll have to ask our guests to wait in the hall."

"She's right." Mr. Foyle shook his head, "We'll need Doctor Bates and Father Green to wait outside."

"John?" Robert made a face. "I'm sorry but-"

John left the room, pacing the corridor as if he were about to go out on stage and sing to a waiting crowd. He ran a hand through his hair, disturbing the carefully laid pomade there but ignoring the slight grease to his fingers. Another run and his hair disheveled to match the agony in his pace.

"You care about that bitch don't you?" John turned, noting Father Green standing behind him. The scowl stretching his face replaced the carefully cultivated veneer he usually donned there. "You think she told you the truth?"

"I'd believe her over you any day." John scoffed at Green. "Just looking at you makes my skin crawl."

"What if I told you she made advances toward me?" Father Green matched his verb with his actions. "What if I told you she expressed her loneliness to me and asked how I could help her?"

"It wouldn't give you the right to force yourself on her, no matter what lies you told yourself to justify it." John waved a hand at Father Green's clothes. "What makes you think you can wear that? That you're worthy to stand before God, dressed as you are, and claim you serve Him?"

"I do serve Him."

"Then you don't understand Him." John shook his head. "You don't represent God. You shame Him and you bring a bad name to your profession and to everything it stands for."

"You dare judge me?"

"Why not? Your judgment put a woman in an asylum."

"It's the best place for the scum of the earth like that slut is. She-"

Whatever Father Green was about to say Anna was John did not even fathom to guess. His fist impacted Father Green's nose and the crack echoed in the hall but only whispered past the thudding of blood in John's ears. Father Greens staggered back, holding his nose, but took another fist to his cheek that landed close enough to crack his eye socket.

He hit the floor as the door opened. Mr. Murray immediately rushed to Father Green's side, dabbing at his nose with a handkerchief as Father Green howled in pain. John shook out his hands, the sting working from his knuckles and into his hands as Robert grabbed his shoulder.

"John?" John turned and Robert shook his head. "Leave it."

"What's the verdict?" John asked, the other members of the board hurrying away without a word, their heads down. "Robert?"

"They've decided that Ms. Bancroft should stay at the asylum and Father Green'll be restricted for the moment. They'll review in six months."

"Six months?" John thrust a hand toward the sniveling man on the floor. "To investigate this shit, surely?"

"That's… That's not our call." Robert struggled for words as John moved away from him. "John? John!"

But John already pushed out of the doors of the building, walking back toward the hospital.


	16. Dreams

John massaged his knuckles, ascending the steps toward the hospital. He put his foot on the bottom step but stopped when he saw Sybil descending, removing her sweater with a grateful sigh. She paused, slowing her pace, when she saw him and made a sheepish face.

"It's so hot and I-"

"I believe you're off duty, Student Nurse Crawley, and it's up to you to dress as you like." John rubbed his knuckles again, the redness there flaring up a bit under closer inspection. "It's not for me to say one way or the other what you wear."

"Nor is it for me to ask what you've been doing with your fists to give you that kind of pain." Sybil stepped forward, taking his hands in hers. "Did you punch something Doctor Bates?"

"Someone." He shook his head, "The board meeting today didn't go as planned."

"You mean Anna's…" She put a hand over her mouth. "Did they rule against her?"

John nodded. "It seems they believe it's for her health to stay here."

"Why? She's as sane as you or I."

"As I tried to explain but it seems that not only is Mr. Murray deep into Father's Green pocket, however he got there, but he's also convinced I'm not a doctor or worth his attention. He kept calling her 'Ms. Crawley' and even had the nerve to call her a…" John stopped. "It's not a word for polite company."

"I have an Irish boyfriend Doctor Bates." She smiled and then paled. "Please don't tell my father."

"What you do in your spare time is your business and I'm not at the beck and call of anyone's interrogation." John assured her, unbuttoning his coat to sling over his arm. "Do you know where Ms. Bancroft is right now?"

"I suspect she's on her tour of the grounds."

"Tour of the grounds?"

"She's a low-risk patient and so she has a great deal of free time. As such she's allowed to wander the grounds. We've got a wall keeping the estate contained but she can go anywhere within its bounds on her own."

"How big is the estate?"

Sybil shrugged, "A hundred acres or so."

"A hundred acres?' John put a hand through his hair, feeling it resist his attempts to style it again. "Is there anywhere specifically she likes to go?"

"She's known to sit in the old church on the grounds. It's in disrepair but the main meeting room is still in good condition and the roof's not fallen in there." Sybil turned up the sky as a rumble sounded over them. "Though I do worry about her if it rains."

"Flooding?"

"She'll catch cold if she's out too long in the downpour."

"I'll get her then." John put a hand out, "I think she needs to hear this from me."

"Did you… tell her?"

"I told her there was a chance." John sighed, "I hoped it was more of one."

"It's directly behind the hospital." John frowned and Sybil pointed through the building. "The old church. Take the gravel path through the copse of trees and around the little pond. It's just there and the only thing for a ways around."

"Thank you Sybil." John checked his watch. "I don't think I've anyone else for the rest of today."

"You don't." She moved around him on the stairs. "I'd hurry, before you're both soaked."

John left his jacket in his office and left through the backdoors. The blackened sky made finding his way a bit more treacherous than it otherwise would have been but it was still dry. He risked the dark of the trees, trusting to the crunch of gravel under his feet to guide him, and found the pond. Rounding it, as Sybil instructed, there was the church.

A flash of lightning lit it from behind and John jogged toward the doors, ignoring the pain in his leg, as the first sheets of rain pummeled the ground. The creak of the door echoed in time with the gasp from the interior. Heavy shadows left everything shrouded in gray and John worked his way between the splintered and rotting pews to reach the only figure in the church.

Anna looked up at him from her place on the bench and John nodded at her, taking the space beside her. "Sorry to frighten you."

"I guess you couldn't help it." She shifted away from him, "Come to retrieve me back have you?"

"No I'm here to tell you the news from today." John laced his fingers, squeezing them together. "Ms. Bancroft it-"

"They said 'no', didn't they?" Her face stayed forward, the occasional, jagged split of lightning giving her face sharp lines that vanished before thunder rolled it's reverberating echo through the old church. "I knew it was ridiculous to hope."

"It's never ridiculous to hope."

"Says the man free to leave this place as he like because he's not a ward of the state here at the whims of another." Anna stood up, walking away from John as she buried her face in her hands. They went to her hips a moment later and she turned back toward him but her focus remained on the stones under her feet. "Was Father Green there?"

"Yes but they've decided he's got a six month ban that'll keep him from entering the hospital." John shifted as if to stand but thought better of it and stayed sitting. "I know our sessions haven't been very helpful of late but-"

"Helpful?" Anna snorted, "You press and pry and persist where I've asked you to not. What else could I say to you that would make you leave me be?"

John let out a breath, "Nothing." She finally raised her head to look at him. "Nothing because, for as much as I shouldn't say this, I believe that I love you Ms. Bancroft. I know it's not professional to say it but I can't say I feel very professional right now."

Anna gaped at him, her jaw flexing in the dimness until she managed words. "You think you love me?"

"It's hard not to." John stood but did not approach her, leaving Anna to pace herself back and forth. "Even now that I know and that I confronted him about it."

Anna froze, her back to him. "You what?"

"Doctor Laing's notes arrived a few weeks ago and I read what you told him. I know what happened to you and I wouldn't let the board believe he was a good man when he's scum."

"I told you to let it be." Anna's voice cracked, a shiver passing through her body to match the slight patter of rain in a corner where the roof leaked. "It wasn't their story to know."

"It wasn't… I had to help them understand Anna." John risked a step closer and she didn't back away. "I wanted to do what I could to help you, to fight for you, and I-"

"And now you pity me like they will?"

"Never." John put his hand on hers and she flinched but did not recoil. "I could never pity you. Not with how strong you are. To leave everything behind and try to find yourself. To stand against the rumors and the insinuations of scandal to bear your father's name. To… To stay strong when you suffered as you did. That's why I told them about Father Green and why he's banned. They had to know what sort of evil he is to try and save another if they can."

"Well…" Anna forced a laugh and it grated on John's ears. "It's out in the open now. I'm glad of that at least. The secret of why I'm here isn't a weight of worry that someone might find out because I'm found out. My shame's got nowhere to hide and-"

"Shame?" John pulled just enough on her hand to put them parallel with one another. "Why are you talking about shame?"

"Because I'm spoiled for everyone. It was enough to know I was a bastard and now they'll think I'm soiled goods. Used and worthless."

"You're not worthless or soiled or spoiled." John took a breath and her other hand in his. "You're made holier, and higher, to me because of the suffering you've been put through. Anyone else would've crumbled but you stood strong and though I've no right to say it I couldn't be prouder of you and what you've endured than I am at this moment."

"Are you saying this as my doctor or as someone who wants to be my lover?"

John struggled to speak, Anna's blue eyes cutting through the dimness to pierce his soul. "I don't think I can separate the two in this."

"I'd like you to." Anna drew her hand from his and John's heart dropped a step before rising higher than it ever had when she placed it on his cheek. "Because I want to kiss the man who wants to love me and not my doctor."

"We shouldn't." John tried to say but his body already bent and leaned to get closer to her. "It's…"

"If I can't be free, let me have this." She whispered and for a moment the room lit with the next strike of lightning. Her eyes blazed in it and John could not resist their pull. "Please let me have this."

He could not argue with her.

* * *

"Wow," Anna whistled on the other end of the couch and John lowered the journal. "Doctor Bates broke all the rules."

"Admit it," John nudged her with his foot. "You wanted him to."

"Of course I did. I'm not an idiot and he's possibly the noblest man I've ever read about." Anna leaned back on her arm and John flicked his gaze to where her dressing gown gaped to show him a run of black silk over her skin. "Imagine being that kind of white knight."

"Remember, it's his journal and there's a chance he's an unreliable narrator."

"Right." Anna blew a half-hearted raspberry at him. "Go on, ruin it for me."

"You're the one who said he broke the rules."

"It was the Sixties." Anna shrugged and John caught another look at something silky inside her dressing gown. Her laugh drew his attention and John sensed the heat as his face reddened. "See something you like?"

"I can't say because I can't really see anything."

"Oh," Anna went onto her knees and drew her dressing gown apart. John's mouth went dry at the sight of her black lingerie. "I wanted to surprise you for being so good last night but you were gone."

"I'm sorry." John marked the page and hurried to put the journal on the table. "If I'd known I would've stayed in bed."

"It made it a bit more of a surprise this way." Anna let her dressing gown drape over the back of the couch and crawled toward him, straddling his legs with the material of her garter belt rasping over his tracksuit bottoms. "But you were good last night and I guess you needed to recuperate."

"I would've thought the early finish in round one might've put you off." John rested his hands gently on her thighs, caressing between the garters and the belt, tracing the line of the black thong.

"No," Anna shook her head, hands settling on his shoulders and running over the fabric of his shirt to lift at the hem and help him remove it. "You got me off so how could I complain?"

"I don't dare make assumptions." John swallowed, tracing a finger up her stomach and toward the black silk of the bustier.

"This isn't an assumption." Anna ground down on him and John bit at his lip when her tongue licked his ear. "Un fact, I'd like you to do it again please."

"Since you've asked so nicely," John moved a finger under her thong and ran over the line of her folds to test the teasing wet there. "How can I say no?"

Her lips met him, moving slowly with the temptation of their tongues meeting and drawing back. John's tracksuit bottoms bunched and Anna got onto her knees to help him remove them. As soon as they bit the floor his boxers followed and they resumed their earlier position.

Anna's hand caressed the hair at the nape of his neck, working into it in time with her control of their kiss and his head. John gave her all the control she wanted, keeping her deepening the kiss and moaning into it with his persistent flicks and attention at her slit and clit. Anna shifted to get closer to him and forced herself as close as she could manage to him so one of John's fingers slipped into her.

They both groaned, Anna pulling away from the kiss to rest her forehead on his. Their bodies continued to rock against one another and John turned the attentions of his lips over Anna's neck and exposed collarbones. Each patch of her skin offered a new chance to adore her and shower every bit of affection he could muster over her. With each new kiss and touch she whimpered or keened or moaned until John expanded her with two fingers.

She rode over him, obeying his slow pace and taking hold of his cheeks to bring his lips to hers again. John crooked his fingers inside her, seeking the sweet spot she needed to fall over the edge, and pushed her thong to the side so his thumb could give the right attention to her clit. The combined attention sent Anna shrieking over the edge and she held fast to him as her body rode out the shocks.

John took his time with her recovery, figuring out the clasps of the bustier to remove it with as much finesse as he could manage with her body boneless on his. But it laid carefully on top of his discarded clothing and John focused on her newly exposed breasts. The breasts he massaged and kissed until she pressed closer to him. When his teeth tugged at her nipples or nipped her skin she dropped a hand from her secure hold at his neck and taunted him with a strong hold of his erection.

He bucked under her, losing his grip on her breasts, and then cried out as she backed away. But Anna's movement left her thong on top of her bustier and then allowed her to mount him on the sofa. John leaned back against the arm as Anna's knee dug into the cushion under him and her foot hit the floor to bring their hips as close as they could be without merging into one another's bodies.

They stared at one another as Anna moved. Again, John ceded her the control and only followed her guidance. When she leaned her chest closer he took care of her swollen and sensitive breasts. When she dipped her head he took her mouth and worked over the tastes and textures there until he was sure he could replicate it from memory. When she bounced on him faster he used the leverage of his foot on the floor to drive deeper into her.

A few moments later they settled against one another, breathing hard in the quiet of the sitting room. Anna's head went to John's shoulder and he kissed her temple. After a minute she moved off him, both wincing a bit at their mutual sensitivity, but then settling back to use the tissue box on the coffee table to clean themselves up enough to lay back on the sofa and stare at one another.

"Should we talk about how we've taken the risk a few times lately?" John finally managed and Anna frowned. "We've not been careful about protection."

"True." Anna sighed, putting an arm behind her head to prop herself up. "And I've got a feeling you're not one of those men who's shooting blanks."

"I'm relatively healthy but I can't say I've ever tested it." John sat up. "If we're not serious about this then we should consider the possible repercussions."

"Then let me put your mind at ease, Mr. Bates." Anna smiled at him. "I'm serious about this. Whatever 'this' is, specifically, I'd like it to continue."

"Regardless of our insane schedules and the jobs and the distance and…" John stopped, laughing to himself. "You're the one who mentioned we'd only known each other a week."

"I can still want you for my boyfriend after a week." Anna put a hand over his mouth when he went to argue. "And we'll work out exactly what that'll mean when this adventure finishes and you've got to get back to your job. Until then I want to enjoy what we have and meet the future when it comes and not before."

"Alright." John kissed her fingers. "Then, if we're living in the moment, could we take a shower and then I'll take you to breakfast?"

Anna grinned. "I'd like that."

* * *

John opened the door, nodding at Sybil as she led Anna into the room. "Thank you Student Nurse Crawley, that'll be all."

"Very good Doctor." She left down the hall and John shut the door to see Anna already perched on the sofa. "Seems you're ready for the session to start."

"I'm ready for a great many things." She smiled at him. "Thank you, again, for the other day."

"I didn't do anything."

"You did quite a lot." Anna put a hand over his. "You've helped me immeasurably Doctor and I don't want you to think I'm not grateful."

"I never thought that."

"I know I've not been…" She cringed, "The easiest of late but…"

"You've been a model patient for my entire tenure, Anna." He stopped her, and their eyes met. "And that's speaking as your doctor for the last six months."

"Despite my making your attempts to reach me and my avoiding you?"

"We all cope with trauma differently." John made a note on his pad. "I am curious with how your coping in terms of the latest news."

"Is that a question?"

"Do you need it posed like one?"

"Please."

"Alright." John crossed one leg over the other, "How are you coping with the latest news?"

"I'm overjoyed they're not letting him back on the premises but the inconclusive findings in my 'case' are… I'm not surprised. I should be but I'm not."

"You don't see it as a great miscarriage of justice?"

"I see it as quite an average miscarriage of justice, if we're being honest." Anna pulled at her fingers, finding a slightly more comfortable seat. "The idea that he'll continue with his life without repercussions is… it's not a surprise."

"And what about the other news?"

"If I said I sincerely wished Father Green and Ms. Braithwaite well would you believe me?"

"I'd think you weren't human if I thought that was all you wished them."

"I've no quarrel with Ms. Braithwaite. I don't even know her and therefore I've nothing to think about her outside the sphere of Father Green's influence."

"And what would you think, in that case?"

"That she's a fool. If she knows what he is and she'll marry him anyway…" Anna shook her head, staring at her hands. "It's hard to realize that some people won't see what's staring them in the face."

"To err is human."

"To continue erring is ridiculous." Anna interlaced her fingers. "I… I've thought about what happened to me a bit, since it's coming up on the anniversary."

"The seventeenth, yes?"

Anna nodded, "That's normal, isn't it?"

"We tend to think about traumas on the days when they happened."

"Why?"

"Significance. We've trained ourselves from birth to celebrate significant dates by remembering them. Our birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, and even the start of term if you're in school are all reoccurrences we mark and remember. Our minds keep track of those significant moments… even the ones we'd rather forget."

"Would you forget anything, if you could?"

"I'd forget some of what I saw in the war. That kind of violence and destruction can weigh on the mind." John sighed, "But those things also made me what I am."

"How'd you mean?"

"It'll sound strange if I say it out loud." John met Anna's eyes but nodded at her persistent stare. "My father served in the Boer Wars at the turn of the century and he almost never talked about what happened there. I know he saved his commanding officer and took shrapnel in the leg for it but he never spoke of it."

"He never told you about a heroic act?"

"My father was a very reserved man. Loving, generous, always trying to do the right thing, and would walk through fire for my mother or any of us but he wasn't an outspoken man. If three words would do he'd suffice with two." John smiled, "Big reader but not a big talker."

"And when he did talk?"

"He could deliver a barb faster and more precise than any tennis serve I've ever seen." John nodded to himself, the memories flitting past his eyes. "But the only person who knew about the war, at least what he'd tell of it, was my mother."

"Your mother?"

John shrugged, "He occasionally had nightmares and while they'd never tell us about it, we knew. We'd wake up to his yells every now and then but that was all that'd happen. We didn't speak about it, couldn't really because he wouldn't tell us any more than he already had. But my mother would get this look in her eye, like she wanted to tell us more but he'd forbidden her."

"Did you want to know?"

"I knew when I served the kinds of things he saw. Maybe not the same but enough to know that whatever memories of it he kept buried stayed that way for a reason." John took up his pen again. "It's the kind of thing you want to ignore when it's staring you in the face."

"Like loving someone who can't love you back?" John stopped, pen over the pad as he met Anna's look. "How do you ignore that?"

"You don't." John lowered the pad, checking the time on the mantle clock. "The issue isn't that I don't return your affections, Anna."

"I should hope not, since you were the one to bring them up in the first place."

John snorted his laugh, "True. And I recall getting rather soaked for my troubles."

"Do you regret it?"

"Never." John reached a hand across, covering hers. "I only regret I can't do more about it."

"Why not?"

"Because unless I'm no longer your doctor and you're no longer a patient, it' the height of impropriety and violates most of the oaths I made when I became a doctor." He took a breath, "I wouldn't want there to be any question about my recommendations where you're concerned. Be they for your release or medications or treatments. I need to appear dispassionate to all who might take an interest in you or else I'll draw you into new troubles with new names and ruin attached to it."

"The only ruin I recognize is to be without you."

John took her hands, drawing them to his mouth to kiss over them. "And in other circumstances, were I a stronger man with feelings that didn't possess my whole soul, I'd say that you should forget about me and dream of another man-"

"I can't." Anna insisted, tightening her grip on his hands in return. "There aren't any."

"I was going to say," John shook his head at her, "That I know you won't and that I'm not that strong of a person so I won't ask what I couldn't do myself."

"Then one day…"

"One day we'll both be free to love as we choose. Until then," He laid two final kisses, one for each hand, and moved back from her. "We'll have to continue as we are."

"Alright." Anna smiled at him, "It's so tempting to think of all the things we could do if circumstances were different."

"I promise you're not the only one thinking them." John made a note on his pad. "We'll just have to think of them a little less fervently."

* * *

John heard the front door opened and adjusted his laptop on his lap. The whirring fan and the internal mechanisms heated his skin but he ignored it, smiling to himself as Anna called out. "In the sitting room."

"What are you doing-" Anna's eyes widened to match the stretch of her grin over her face. "Who's teasing now?"

"You'd mentioned you liked the idea of me sitting, doing work, and being available to you so…" John gestured to himself as he sat naked on the sofa with only his laptop as cover. "I thought it'd be an interesting thought."

"How long did you wait for this?"

"I'll admit you were at the shop longer than I anticipated and I was getting a little nervous but you made it all alright." John shrugged, shutting the lid. "Since you go back to work tomorrow I thought I should send you off properly."

"My lucky day." Anna leaded on the doorway, nodding at his lap. "Do you need help with anything?"

"I might." He craned his head to see into the hall. "Do you?"

"As much I as I'm enjoying the idea of seeing you help me put away groceries in the buff, I might have to discourage that."

"Why?"

"Two reasons." Anna sauntered into the room, leaving her shirt on the chair as John moved his laptop to the coffee table. "First, because I didn't get anything that I haven't already put away."

"Second?"

"Because I'd be so distracted I'd probably just take you in the kitchen again." Anna left her trousers on the floor and sat on his lap with her hands on his shoulders. "And the sofa's far more comfortable anyway."

"I quite agree." John made a show of checking over his shoulder. "I don't know how your future guests'll feel about sitting where my bare ass made a mark."

"Then let's have them think about how much they'll hate the idea of sitting where both of our bare asses have been." Anna unclipped her bra and John immediately filled his hands with their weight. "I'd love for you to take me on this sofa, Mr. Bates, while I imagine the idea of having you sit ready for me like this all the time."

"With pleasure."

John moved his mouth to kiss her and Anna wrapped an arm around his neck to hold her steady as she managed to work her knickers down her legs. His hand flailed to the side and found the packet he conveniently left on the end table. Anna grinned at him before continuing to kiss him and leave her knickers on the floor with her trousers.

Putting a hand around her waist, John flipped them so Anna's back was to the cushions. Her breath left in a rush but John used the moment to skim his lips from her jaw to her breasts. He showered them with attention before dedicating the focus of his fingers to getting her ready. In a moment her hips ground against his and John could not avoid the opportunity to kiss further south.

He traced her hipbones, following the indentation of her navel with his tongue, and then licked over her clit. She grabbed in his air, pressing him where her hips rose to meet him, and John laid his own line of licks and kisses to her weeping folds. With sucks and the pull of his teeth around her, Anna cried out and worked harder against him. John slipped his fingers to help him and when he could work two to crook inside her Anna climaxed.

A final kiss to her quivering clit brought John back over her. Their lips met and Anna's ferocity as she sought for every last crevice of her taste left John struggling to get the condom on. The moment he did, risking the half-second to make sure it was secure, John drove into her.

Her nails digging into his skin took away any thought of smooth, slow, or sensual. Instead they both clawed and gripped at one another as they maneuvered and shifted on the sofa to find the angles they needed. John's fingers and mouth dedicated themselves to setting Anna's body on fire and she squirmed and moaned under him. Whatever breath John could manage he used to haul air into his starved lungs between grunting moans.

As she peaked again, her teeth digging into his shoulder as she wrapped her body as close to him as she could, John joined her. The last stuttering motions sounded like hollow aftershocks and John allowed his weight to drift onto her as his head rested on her shoulder. Anna idly stroked his hair a moment before trying to turn them to the side to unsettle his weight.

John laughed, helping her adjust, and stared at her while pushing loose strands of hair from where they fell in her face. She grinned at him. "Worth the wait Mr. Bates?"

"Well worth it." He kissed her quickly, "Now I'm a bit starved ."

"Are you now?" Anna pursed her lips, struggling to keep the grin from them. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I was going to try and make myself something because I want to see if you'll try to take me in the kitchen again if I do it naked."

"That's an almost guarantee."

"Almost?"

"I'd have to see if I could recover my strength first." She pushed at him. "Come on, let's see if you can make it worth my while."


	17. Secrets

Two Days Later

John placed the other earbud in his ear and answered the Skype call. "Hello Michael."

"I'm sure you know why I'm calling John."

"You're trying to make sure I didn't just file a report for expenses while pretending to do work." John shrugged, "I'm used to it."

"It's not you it's-"

"I'm well aware of the scum reporter's you've sacked in the past. I'm just curious why we didn't have this chat over email or text."

"Because while I accept you think you cut your holiday short to publish this amazing story I don't actually believe it's as viable as you seem to think."

John paused, chewing the inside of his cheek a moment before he responded to his coffee sipping boss. "You've never doubted the viablility of any story I've ever sent you before Michael."

"You also weren't terrifyingly close to suicide when you asked permission to write those stories."

"Suic-" John swallowed, "Why would you say that?"

"Becaue, John, for as big as you are and as famous as your face is around London, you didn't think I wouldn't find the ends of the grapevines talking about the security guard you paid a hundred quid to so you could get up to the top of Tower Bridge? Or the woman owning the used book shop who talked about how sad you looked?"

"Looking sad isn't-"

"If you're about to split hairs with me, John Bates, then you've got another thing coming."

"I wouldn't do you the disservice Michael but no matter how I found this story there is one here."

"I entertained the thought when I first listened to you but all you've got now is an old doctor's journal. I'm sorry but what are you going to find with that?"

"We're hoping to find Anna Bancroft."

"Who's 'we'? You didn't drag an intern up to Manchester did you?"

"No, it's me and the woman who's sister owned the original book." John shook his head, "You're missing the point, Michael. There's a lot here. A lot that people would read."

"In a crime novel or a gripping drama or something but you're not Kate Morton or Kathryn Hughes and if you want to be then you're doing it on your time and your dime."

"We'll ignore the fact that you know who either of those authors are-"

"My wife likes them."

"Whatever," John waved a hand. "My point is, it's a good story and people'll read it."

"And if you want to write it as a fiction novel or a memoir or even a bloody fanfic then you go ahead and do it but you do it on your own time. I'm not publishing this in a paper known of putting you the front page when you break a scandal or into a country to tell us about mass genocide."

"I'm hoping you're not praying I find either of those things on whatever assignment you're about to give me."

"I'm not, though what a world it would be if I could conjure one up just so you could shut it down." Michael finished his drink and pointed at the screen. "Write the historical discovery piece you promised, put in a plug for the ad space I already sold to and then get your ass back to London. Am I clear?"

John nodded, "Crystal."

"And John, you've only got until the end of this week. Whatever you have by then is what you have."

The screen went dark and John shut the lid, pushing back from the table as he banged his hand on the wood. He minimized the window and brought up the article, scowling at the indicator blinking for him to continue where he was. Whatever time the clock in the right-hand corner ticked and flipped went entirely unnoticed. As unnoticed as the screen going dark until a hand came down on his shoulder.

John jumped and Anna put her hands up, holding her keys between her fingers. "I'm starting to think I should get a bell or something so you're not constantly surprised that I come home."

"Sorry." John closed the lid to the laptop and rolled his earbud wire over his fingers. "I'm just… lost in thought."

"Wherever you got lost it was far away from here." Anna took the set near him, her trainers squeaking a bit on the floor. "What's troubling you?"

"My boss wants me back in London by Friday to publish whatever it is I actually have."

"What do you have?"

"Not enough." John held up the journal. "We're almost through with this and I'm getting the sinking feeling that there's no end to it."

"How'd you mean?"

"Some stories just stop." He tapped the book against his hand. "I once knew a girl, she was almost twenty-seven, and she'd been writing in a journal consistently since she was twelve. Do you know how many journals that is?"

"Haven't a clue."

"When I met her, fifty-eight. By the end of that year I'd estimate she'd be on number fifty-nine. And I'm not talking about the cute ones with wide ruled pages and designed on them. I'm talking about large notebooks with no lines and she had this miniscule handwriting." John held his fingers close together to demonstrate. "Wrote everyday, without fail, and if she missed she caught it up."

"How does anyone have that much to say?"

"She could talk your ear off but the point is, those journals didn't follow a specific time. They started and ended on random dates and while Doctor Bates is nice enough to've chosen a rather ledger-like journal for us, the pages are almost gone and I've got this feeling he's not going to Terry Goodkind us with a rushed ending in the last five pages of bullshit explanation."

"I didn't really get your reference but I think I got the feeling behind it." Anna pulled her leg up on the chair to rest her chin there. "So what're you going to do about it? Now that you realize we've got, max, two days if you stretch it, what's the next step?"

"I don't know." John let the journal land on the table. "I was hoping we'd find Anna Bancroft, reunite her with her family, publish an article that's all puff piece and then… I don't know. Find meaning in all the suffering that's plagued the people in these families."

"It's noble," Anna put her hand over his, her fingers stroking there. "But I hate to bear the bad news you already know but things don't always work out like that. I had to tell parents today that the treatment on their son's not working and he'll most likely pass by tomorrow."

She held his hand, focusing her attention there. "Sometimes life's just unfair."

"You don't think we'll find her?"

"I think we need to open ourselves up to the possibility that this story doesn't have a happy ending." Anna pulled back, shrugging. "And if it does then maybe we just don't get to know it."

"You think they ended up together?"

"I want to think they did but maybe it's their right to know that and not ours." Anna stood, sighing, "At the end of the day we think we know their story and that their story is ours. In a way it might be but we're strangers to them. We've been granted a very unique chance to see into their lives and we really don't have a right to it. We're just borrowing their story. When we have to give it back that might be it."

"What about our story?" John adjusted on the chair so his back was to the wall and his legs went sideways off the chair. "Do we get a happy ending?"

"You mean after we've known each other two weeks?"

"We've had a lot of sex in that time." John dodged her swat at him. "Sorry, I thought you'd like the implication that replaces an actual relationship."

"I defy that." Anna rested back against the counter. "Despite the fact we've have a lot of sex across numerous surfaces of my house and in a number of ways that make me applaud our mutual ingenuity, I think we need to face the fact that we've got a lot to figure out between the two of us."

"How so?"

"You've lived in my house but we're, at best, still in the honeymoon stage."' Anna smiled at him. "You still do my laundry, the vacuuming, and the dishes. Those aren't things I should expect of someone who's serious about me romantically."

"Why not?"

"Because those are done by people still trying to impress or who are getting paid for it."

John shrugged, "I feel well paid."

Anna held up a finger, "I'm warning you, another word and you're back in the guest room."

"Okay, being serious," John put up his hands in surrender, "Other than distance and the obvious slaves that we are to our schedules, why not?"

"Why not what?"

"Why not take the chance and see where it takes us?"

"You mean try to be a real couple?"

"We're already romantic acquaintances."

"And I feel like you've used that excuse before." Anna pursed her lips, "I think, personally, that part of what drew us together were deep emotions I don't know if we'll share once time and tide have their way with us."

"You think distance won't this relationship strengthen?"

Anna shrugged, "I've never been one to believe that distance makes the heart grow fonder."

"Do you believe you'd grow fonder?"

"I found excuses not to be with a boyfriend sharing this house with me. What excuses can't I find to get away from someone living a four hour train ride away?"

"Hurts a little that you're saying you wouldn't want to try and think about the idea you'd want to be with me instead of escaping me."

"You know what I mean." Anna threw up her hands, "Look, the reality is that as close as we are, as much sex as we've had if you want to put it that way, and the discoveries we've made about the lives of these strangers… it's artificial."

"I disagree."

"Because you're a writer."

"And I thought you believed in your gut." John thumped his fist against his abdomen. "What I feel for you, despite the illogical nature of it being a short time or all these conflicting emotions that could be false contributors, is real. It's deeper than anything I've ever felt for anyone and I knew it the moment I saw you with those kids in the TCU."

"And I think that's a problem." Anna put a hand through her hair, pulling out the elastic to wrap around her wrist. "In the case of this story, of my sister, of Violet Crawley, of everything having to do with the lives of strangers I'm far more willing to talk about the possibilities that love willed out and the heroes we rooted for won. I'm all for it. But-"

"But sometimes life's just unfair?" John nodded, "That's what you're saying?"

"I'm saying that, logically, to proceed with our lives as if we're going to be together forever is ridiculous and we're ridiculous for thinking it."

"Then what? I keep you as a number in my phone if I'm ever up north or you're down south and we exchange time like occasional booty calls?"

"We're not matches on Tinder."

"That's what you're making it sound like we are." John stood, "Look, I want this to be real. If you don't feel it then tell me what I'd need to do so I could convince you."

"Sometimes it's not as easy as doing something." Anna put her hands to her abdomen, "Like you've got your gut, I've got mine, and mine's roiling with the feeling that I can't just jump into this."

"We already did."

"Committing to a permanent relationship's different than committing to sex."

John stared at her, "Thank you for clearing this up for me. I was confused before but I'm not now."

"John-"

"No," He packed up his things, leaving the laptop bag in the kitchen and working upstairs to gather all of his things. "I've got to be back in London by the end of the week anyway so it's best if I start now. Gets me ahead of the game to write the article my editor wants and gets me out of your hair before you start feeling too sick to your stomach."

"You don't understand-"

"You think you're the only one moving hesitantly." John pointed at her, stuffing socks and a cord into his bag with abandon. "You think because your wanker of an ex had two rounds of cheating on you that you're alright to be careful but you forget that my wife cheated on me for years. She razed me to the ground and then took everything I had, down to my dignity."

He zipped up his things, checking quickly and not caring if the various and sundry items vanished in her house. "You think your shit of a boyfriend compares to ten years of that?"

"Don't presume to know a thing about my suffering."

"Then do me the favor of not assuming to know shit about how I feel for you." John shook his head, grabbing his things and shoving the journal into his bag. "If you're not brave enough at least tell me. I could understand that. I don't understand whatever this is."

"You don't understand prudence?"

"Prudence wouldn't have let a stranger stay in your house and then have you making overt sexual jokes at him." John glared at her. "What else was I supposed to think?"

"I don't owe you my feelings."

"But you did owe me honesty in exchange for mine." John snatched his coat from the hook and left the house.

* * *

He picked up the suitcase, handing it to the man. "You'll be missed here Jimmy."

"I hope so but you've got it under control on your own." Jimmy paused, running his hands over the handles of his case. "And you'll not say anything… about what happened?"

"It was a mistake Jimmy and we're all prone to them." John waved at the man opening the door to the bus. "I trust you won't make the same mistake at your next hospital."

"I won't." Jimmy shook John's hand and flicked a look up at the building. John looked back over his shoulder and noted a dark-haired man in the window who disappeared from view the moment John turned. "And please tell Thomas… Mr. Barrow that I'm grateful for what he did for me."

"I'll let him know." John smiled at the man opening the door to the bus and the driver. "Andy, Mr. Carson, it's been some time."

"And you seem well Mr. Bates." Andy offered to take Jimmy's case, stowing it in the bus as Jimmy followed him.

"I guess you didn't need that escape after all." Mr. Carson called to John, who only shrugged.

"I guess they've not driven me mad yet."

"The offers still open when you need it."

"I'll keep it in mind."

"See that you do." Mr. Carson closed the doors and the bus belched its puff of exhaust before pulling away down the road.

John turned back inside the hospital and stopped himself just before he ran into the man from the window. "Mr. Barrow, how can I help you?"

"What did Jimmy say?"

"He told me to thank you and wished you well." John shrugged and went to walk away as Barrow dug his fingers into his coat. He blinked and turned his face to Barrow. "I'll ask you, once, to remove your fingers before you lose every one of them."

Barrow released immediately, "I'm sorry I just-"

"Mr. Barrow," John glanced down the corridor, "Would you care to have this conversation in my office?"

Barrow nodded and they walked in silence to John's office, waiting for the door to close before continuing. John gestured to his desk when Barrow avoided the sofa and chair. "Not a fan of the couch."

"I don't need treatment."

"I'll assume you don't just mean the treatment of a psychological nature." John took his chair. "Because as good as you are at hiding it, Mr. Barrow, and as much as you want everyone to believe you're a ladies' man, I think we both know the truth."

He looked up at Barrow, shuffling in place in front of his desk. "And now you're afraid of what I'll do with this information."

"There's a lot you can do." Barrow shivered, "I won't go on drugs or go to prison or-"

"Mr. Barrow," John held up a hand. "While the law may say what you are is illegal I believe the letter of it says you actually have to do something illegal. Since no charges were filed, no one was hurt, and there's no lasting damage I'll say the whole thing was a moment of temporary insanity which, as a doctor, I'm certified to provide as an adequate response."

Barrow blinked, "You won't-"

"You're not foul, Mr. Barrow, and while I can't say your inclinations are my own or that I've ever been tempted in that context I can also say I've not been tempted by a great number of other things. In my opinion, individual as it is, to each their own." John pointed to the door, "You can go now if that's all."

"You're not going to…"

"To what?" John frowned, "Punish you? Hold it over your head like blackmail?"

Barrow shifted his weight. "Anyone else would."

"I'm not anyone else."

"Then," Barrow risked a step closer to the desk and John raised an eyebrow. "I feel obligated to tell you that I believe Vera's got something she's hiding."

"What's Matron Sadler hiding?"

"You might want to take a look at the finances of the hospital." Barrow shrugged, "She tried to brag to me once about money but I don't know the details."

"Don't know or won't say?"

Barrow bit his lip, "We were…"

"Thick as thieves if the term 'Guy Fawkes and her assistant' were anything to go by." John rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What's she done?"

"I heard her once mention that she dips into the funds. And there might've been something about her stealing some letters."

"Letters?" John shook his head, the frown continuing, "Whose letters?"

"Ms. Bancroft's."

"Why she's stealing Ms. Bancroft's letters?"

"She and Father Green are friends. I think she's also been getting him into the hospital."

"What?" John was out of his chair so fast it bounced off the back wall. "Is he here now?"

"I don't know." Barrow cowered back, "It's not a regular thing so I don't-"

John left the office, storming his way through the corridors until he found the Matron's office. Without a knock he burst through the door and saw Father Green sitting across her desk with a teacup in his hand. It hit the ground as John grabbed the man's collar and hoisted him out of his seat to land him against the wall.

"I told you never to come back here."

"He's my guest." Matron Sadler tried to come around the desk but John stopped her with a withering glare.

"He's banned, by the board's order, and you've got other things you need to worry yourself over at the moment." John altered his grip only enough to hook his fingers in the Father Green's collar and bodily drag him from the room.

"I'm a man of the cloth!" Father Green kicked and fought against John's grip, drawing attention from the nurses and the patients in the hospital but John paid them no heed. "I'll press charges."

"Be my guest." John opened the doors and tossed Father Green down the steps, the man rolling and bouncing off each successive one. "And when you do, be ready for whatever charges I'll place to oppose yours. And trust me, I won't be kind about it."

He pulled the doors shut and pointed at Barrow, emerging from around a corner. "If he comes onto the grounds again or inside this hospital, restrain him and call the police. Do you understand?"

Barrow nodded quickly and John left him to return to Matron Sadler's office. She already had bag on her desk, filling it as quickly as she could with the contents of her drawers. Her hand paused, halfway up from a drawer, as John opened the door so hard it knocked off the wall.

"You should stop what you're doing before I call the police on you like I will on your friend out there." John grabbed the bag, dumping it out to examine the contents. "I've heard two accusations against you today, not counting your collusion with Father Green, and I've got the strangest impression that they're both just as true."

"What've you heard?"

"That you've been stealing from the hospital," John pulled up a few things. "Which I know is true since these are the possessions of the patients."

"They didn't need them. With as long as the government'll keep them here."

"That's not up to you." John turned out the door, "Student Nurse Crawley, please take two other nurses you trust and search Matron Sadler's rooms. I want a full inventory of all the things in there that don't belong to her. And find someone to investigate her service record. I think those hospitals'll find some discrepancies as well."

Matron Sadler swallowed, sinking into her chair. "What'll you do with me?"

"Nothing. That's for the law to decide." John pushed the bag away. "I'm curious what you've been doing with Ms. Bancroft's letters."

Matron Sadler paled, "It wasn't my idea."

"I'm sure it wasn't but you did something with them and I want to know what it was." John tapped the desk when her gaze drifted. "I'm waiting."

"I burned them."

"Burned them?"

"On Father Green's orders."

John swallowed, "Ms. Vera Sadler, you no longer work here. Pack your things, and I mean only those things that actually belong to you because you will be searched before you leave the premises, and then be on your way."

"Where?"

"I don't know but I'd guess, with a record like they'll find about you, it should be where the police won't find you." John turned at the doorway, "Though I hope they do find you."

* * *

John jerked away, pulling himself out of the train seat and gathering his things. He tucked the journal carefully in his bag and hurried to adjust his hold on everything as his phone vibrated. Working through the crush to a small alcove he slid the message bar to the side and read, 'Look up.'

Turning he saw Anna, waiting at exit with her phone in her hand. John moved toward her, protecting his bags from those passing him, and stopped in front of her. "What are you doing here?"

"Telling you I made a huge mistake and I want your forgiveness."

"For?"

"For doubting you, for thinking I could just write you out of my life in an instant, for not even being willing to try…" Anna took a deep breath, "Because I think I might love you too, John Bates, and while it terrifies me to say it I need to."

"It terrifies me too." John smiled at her. "But it'll be alright."

"I hope so since I just spent more money than I have in one go with my card to beat you here and I've got no place to stay."

"Then let me off you my home the way you offered me yours." John went to lead them outside as a crack of thunder tore through the sky and the rain dropped in a veritable deluge. "Fitting."

"Come on." Anna pulled on his arm. "We've got a lot to discuss."


	18. Plans

John shook off the excess water, helping Anna out of her jacket as much as he could, and retrieving his things to make sure his electronics and the journal were not damaged by the rain. He held them up in triumph before setting them on his table. "All safe."

"I should hope so since you're going to write a book with that."

"What?" John frowned as Anna pulled the blanket off the sofa to wrap around herself. "What does that mean?"

"I've been thinking, since your editor kiboshed you actually giving him a good article-"

"All my articles are good."

"Anyway," Anna pursed her lips at him, "Since he doesn't want the article you want to write I was thinking you should write it as a book."

"Like what kind of book?"

"A children's story."

"There are some distinctly not-child-friendly parts of this story."

Anna shrugged, "That's what editing's for."

"I guess." John brushed some of the water from his hair. "Why?"

"Because I want you to dedicate it to Averi." Anna's voice cracked. "I want a way to remember her story because it matters. Not just to me but to so many who think they made no difference or who wonder what difference the lives of their short-lived children made on the world. I want them to know the kind of difference they make everyday."

John took Anna's hand and led her to his sofa, still wrapped in the blanket, and went over to the fireplace to start it up. The glow of it soon lit the darkening room and John came back over to her side and took her hands in his. After a minute of rubbing them back and forth he looked into her eyes.

"I'm honored by that idea but I think we need to backtrack a pace."

"Backtrack how?"

"What are you doing here Anna?"

She took a deep breath. "Partly to make sure you didn't forget Averi in all of this."

"How could I forget her?"

"I just…" Anna took a breath. "I worried that how we parted might effect how you see the whole thing and I didn't want my sister to be the victim of my idiocy."

"It wasn't idiocy and I want Averi to be involved in as much of this as I can. She's the reason we found any of this and I can't forget that." John stroked his fingers over her hand, almost absentmindedly. "As for how we parted… I don't understand it."

"What do you mean?"

"Not trying to say that compatibility lies entirely in the realms of the bedroom gymnastics, but we get along well there and in other ways. We fit together and our lives, while complicated, mesh. I thought you thought that and maybe I made an ass out of myself with that assumption but I made it all the same."

"We do fit together." Anna tightened her hand over his. "It's… It's…"

"Anna," John maneuvered his hand to give her more to hold on his. "Is there something I need to know?"

Anna raised her head to look at him. "After what happened to me, after Averi's death, I've always been a bit suspicious of men. When I had my boyfriend living with me I thought I got over it but when he cheated on me twice it didn't hurt like I thought it would. It wasn't like when your wife cheated on you. I felt nothing. I was empty inside about it. There was only frustration, not the kind of regret I expected."

She swallowed and took a breath. "I think, with you, I… I didn't expect to feel what I felt for you. Not nearly as quickly as I did or maybe even ever but what I found was that I did feel for you and I wanted to feel more but I'm scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Scared of how I feel about you or how I could feel about you." Anna pulled at her fingers. "Averi's illness was genetic. I don't have it but, a long time ago when they did blood tests and tried to find out if I could give bone marrow or anything, they identified me as a carrier. When you mentioned wanting children you said you saw me as the future mother of those children-"

"I'm sorry because that was weird and you didn't deserve to be in that position and-"

"And I wanted that to be me." Anna gripped John's hands harder, forcing his completely attention. "I want to have children and to have a family but I'm terrified. Terrified I'll watch them all die in a bed like the kids I see every day. Terrified that I'll have your children and I'll have to bury them in undersized coffins like my parents buried my sister. I'm terrified that I'll feel for you so deeply we'll get married and have those children and then have to face the fact that those children might die in our arms."

Anna's hands trembled in John's and he focused on them for a moment until a drop fell. Turning up he noticed her eyes dripping with tears. She sniffed and John slipped hand free to wipe at her eyes.

"It might not be as bad as all that."

"I couldn't bear it." Anna shook her head into his hand. "I can't bear to endure that again. It's hard enough watching the parents and family members gather around the room where the children I'm trying to cure eventually can't fight anymore. If it were my child…"

"Then we'd adopt or something." John held her cheek, "But you were right. It was too soon to talk about that and-"

"And it was fair. It's something you'd want from a relationship and I should've been honest with you from the beginning."

"I didn't think you lied."

"But you deserved to know." Anna managed a breath, "I just… I don't think I'd be able to have a child."

"Then we'd adopt or something."

"But you're tribal."

"Then we'll find an Irish child or something." John smiled as Anna managed a laugh. "It's not the end of the world and if, maybe in a few years, you feel differently then…"

"You're assuming we survive that long."

"I believe in the power of positive thinking." John ran his thumb over her cheek. "And I also believe in thinking long term."

"What if we don't last that long?"

"Then we'll love it as long as we have." John watched her eyes. "But I've got a feeling we're in it for the long haul."

"Really?" Anna laughed a little, "After two weeks?"

"I think when you wanted me to stay in your house I wanted it." John pulled back, "If you want it and you're willing, I'm all in Anna."

"It's insane to think of it that way."

"I'm not talking about a ring," John assured her. "I'm talking about trying it all out."

"Then," Anna took a deep breath, "I'm willing to try it out."

"Really?"

"Really." Anna turned her head into his palm, kissing there before bringing his other hand to her lips. "I want to do whatever it takes to be with you for as long as we can make it work."

John tipped forward just enough to kiss her and intended to pull back. But Anna held on to him, her fingers tangling in his hair, and shifted onto his lap to get as close to him as she could managed. His free hand went to her back, holding her tightly to him, and he shifted off his sofa to lay Anna gently on the floor.

Her leg shifted over his hip, holding herself as close to him as she could manage. John ground closer as Anna tipped her head to the side and seized more of his mouth while running her tongue along his. He let her lead, following her movements and matching them, and opened her shirt as her fingers trailed over the skin of his chest.

The fabric caught on his ears but John twisted for Anna to toss his shirt to the side and leave him entirely exposed to her fingers. They raked over his skin, teasing and pulling at him as if to bring him close enough to sink right into her skin. Each button John opened on her shirt left a new place for his lips to kiss. She writhed against him when he reached her waistband and lifted up enough to throw her shirt away.

With the motion shifting John lower, he grinned against her navel and licked under her jeans to tempt her. Anna furrowed into his hair to find a grip and pull him up. John responded, his fingers pulling her zipper loose and her jeans apart to run over her knickers. She bucked her hips into him and John ran his fingers along her seam to leave her gasping.

Her hands fumbled with his belt, almost snapping him in the face accidently but they recovered quickly. John took hold of her mouth, pulling his air from her lungs as she lay back down on the floor. One of her legs rose up, trapping him close to her body and forcing his fingers deeper as his hand caught between their bodies. Anna's head went back, exposing her neck as she broke their kiss, and John wasted no time crooking his fingers inside her and tracing his lips over the column of her neck.

As they shifted over the rug in front of his fireplace, the only other glow of the room from the lamp next to the door, Anna's jeans loosened. She twisted in his grip and kicked them away to leave her in her knickers and bra on the plush rug. John worked his other hand to her back, tempting near her bra strap. But when Anna moved her hand to hold his growing erection, John's fingers slipped and pressed on her clit.

The shriek left John with only one goal. He worked her to finish, tugging her knickers down her legs to leave them somewhere near their other clothing, and lowered his lips to her clit. He pulled it into his mouth and Anna clawed at his back and head to bring him close enough to send her over the edge. In another minute she shuddered and trembled on his rug.

John shucked his trousers away, his boxers catching on his socks and the sound of ripping had him worried for only half a second. In the next second the thought was all but forgotten when he returned to her body. His lips trailed around and over her bra until he freed her from it. The moment he did, John's mouth settled over her nipples.

Anna came back to life immediately and dug her nails into his shoulders to bring him closer. John adjusted his position and her legs settled over his hips as he teased her entrance. But he did not immediately enter her, preferring instead to draw himself back and forth across her. She whimpered and left gouges in his shoulders in her attempt to get him to enter.

"Please?"

John paused, his head just above her entrance, and kissed her. Without another word he entered her. Their fury and passion slowed as John set a steady pace. Each impact of their hips raised Anna's from the floor as she met him move for move. Their hands sculpted familiar muscles and pulled when a hitch or a shift left them striking never nerves to leave them quivering. And when Anna dug her heel into John's ass and her hand clutched his side he finished to the sounds of her cries of his name.

They settled, the final shivers and stutters of their bodies leaving them boneless on the floor. John turned them on their sides and ran his fingers through her hair a moment before speaking. "Children could be nearer than we think."

"How'd you mean?"

"We've gone a couple rounds without protection so maybe we're not as careful as we think."

"Maybe." Anna sighed, moving closer to John as he settled again, toeing the blanket formerly covering Anna from the sofa to draw over them. "But I'm a little less worried about that now than I was before."

"That's good." John continued drawing his fingers through her hair. "And I'd take the risk."

"What risk?" Anna tipped her head up to look at him.

"If whatever child we had was sick and might possibly die, I'd take the risk."

"You would?"

"Of course I would." John shrugged, "I'd rather have whatever time with them I could over never having one at all."

"What if I can't ever have kids?"

"Then we'd face that together." John adjusted over the rug to put his forehead to hers. "I want to face whatever comes with you."

"I think I want to too." Her arm went over him, hugging him close as her head rested on his shoulder. "I want to risk it all with you."

"Isn't that a song lyric?"

"What of it?"

"I was just curious if you were then about to tell us all about how you only need to get woken up when September ends."

"That's Greenday and I was referring to the Vamps." Anna shoved at him, laughing. "Or maybe John Legend or Sam Smith or _Tightrope_ or-"

"Or, or, or," John leaned over, kissing her between recitations. "Or whatever other person used it in a song."

"The point is," Anna looped her arms around his neck as he held himself over her. "I want to risk it with you."

"Me too." John slid his leg between hers. "And I'd like to do something else again too."

"Me too."

* * *

John rubbed at his eyes, nodding at Barrow as the nurse ran toward him. "I assume you've got something to report Mr. Barrow."

"It's Matron Sadler, Doctor."

John frowned and followed Barrow down the hall toward the Matron's office and opened the door. He stepped back, holding himself back from entering the room. Her arms hung loosely from the sides of her chair and her neck lolled back on the headrest while her eyes stared emptily at the ceiling.

"Mr. Barrow," John surveyed the room, eyes landing for a moment on the plate with a crumbling pie, before turning to Barrow. "Please call the police and inform them we need the morticians to come as well. But don't tell anyone else."

Barrow nodded, dashing off down the corridor as John pulled the door to the Matron's office closed. He sorted through his keys and locked the door as a set of footsteps sounded closer and closer toward him. "I thought-"

"Thought what John?" John blinked at Robert, coming down the corridor and shrugging at him. "Is there something you wanted to say to me?"

"I thought you were Nurse Barrow." John flipped his keys in his hand and pocketed them. "Why are you here Robert?"

"Well," Robert coughed, "I'm here because the board asked me to come."

"I'm guessing they've heard about the way I physically tossed Father Green from the building." John pointed toward the door. "We've only just found ourselves with a bit of a problem with our Matron."

"What kind of problem?"

"I believe she's just committed suicide in her office." John waved down the corridor. "Mr. Barrow's phoning the police to investigate for themselves."

"Why would she do that?"

"I've recently discovered she's been stealing from the hospital and personally plaguing a patient. I confronted her about it and…" John shook his head. "I'll leave it to them to figure out."

"Probably best considering the board wants to change leadership."

John paused, about to step away from the door. "I'm sorry?"

"It's-"

"Doctor Bates," Barrow returned, skipping a bit as he tried to stop himself skidding on the floor. "Mr. Crawley, what an unexpected surprise."

"I hope it's a good, unexpected surprise Nurse Barrow." Robert looked at John. "Could we have this conversation in your office? I feel it's not something we should discuss in the vicinity of others for the moment."

"This way." John turned to Barrow, digging the key from his pocket to hand to the other man. "When they get here, use the key to unlock the office."

"Yes sir."

John twitched at the sensation of Barrow's eyes on him all the way down the hall but led Robert into his office. When the door closed he motioned them both toward the sofa but Robert paused. "Are you sure?"

"Unless you want the other side of the desk." John noted Robert's squirm. "You're as bad as some of my patients. We're here for a conversation not an analysis."

"With that coat on you're still a doctor."

"I'm always a doctor Robert." John sat on the sofa. "What's this about the board rethinking the leadership of the hospital? I've not even been here a year."

"And in that year you've alienated most of the board members from your side, terrified the others, and managed to get yourself a possibly infraction from the police about causing bodily harm to a man greatly respected in this community."

"Though we'll not discuss the fact that he's an abuser and a horrible man?"

"That's for someone else to decide, John, not us. We're just here to run a hospital." Robert sighed, "Your antagonism toward Father Green, no matter the validity of it, is cause for concern."

"Am I supposed to be a man without feeling?"

"You're supposed to be a man who can run this hospital and cure these patients with a cool head and a keen eye and a calm demeanor. If you're seeing red every time Father Green walks by you what kind of precedent does that set for them?"

"One that should put all of them on their guard about him too."

"He's a married man who serves faithfully in his vocation."

"And was friends with a thief."

Robert sighed, "He's comment on those allegations was that Jesus ate with publicans and sinners."

John leaned back on the sofa, shaking his head. "You're asking me to be alright with the idea that I'm being removed from this hospital after the fine work I've done."

"It's just a transfer John. The same kind that brought you here in the first place."

"What does it say for your hospital, Robert, when you've been through two doctors as head of psychiatry here in as many years?"

"That we're not perfect and it's a difficult field. We're not the only ones."

"You're the only ones making this mistake because you've got yourselves wrapped too tightly around the finger of a horrible man."

"John…" Robert shook his head. "At the end of the day it's out of my hands. I fought for you until I couldn't fight anymore and then I continued. They won't listen to me and they're not going to keep you. Once your contract ends they'll ask you to leave, without opportunity to appeal."

John chewed on his cheeks and then nodded. "That's in another three months, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then tell the board they'll get no argument from me but I do want to know whomever will be taking my spot. I want to ensure that doctor has an opportunity to see this place in action and run through the patient care before I turn it over. It's the responsible thing to do for them and for the patients."

"I'll let the board know." Robert stood, fingering his hat. "It's a bad business John and I wish it were different but it is what it is."

"And in a logical sense I understand." John stood as well, holding out his hand. "Morally and ethically I find this repugnant."

"We all do, at heart." Robert walked to the door, John going with him. "But I think some of the members of the board buried their hearts a long time ago."

"I quite agree."

John watched Robert leave and paced his office until the police arrived. They investigated the scene and the gurney carried Matron Sadler's body from the hospital with the sheet flapping a bit in the breeze. As they left through the doors John turned down the corridor and entered the women's ward.

A few of the women called out to him, a few of them tried to flash him, and some of the others ignored him. He stopped at Anna's bed, tapping the metal frame to get her attention and she lowered the book in her hands. In a moment she scrambled up, pulling her knees, to her chest and pulling the blanket with her.

"Doctor Bates, what a surprise."

"I hope not a bad one." He cleared his throat, noting how the women around him turned to lean toward their conversation. "Could I have a word in private?"

"Of course." She paused, "Could I grab my dressing gown?"

"Of course." John hurried to turn, noting his watch as he did and blinking against the pull on his eyelids. A tap on his shoulder put a gown-ed Anna in his periphery and they walked into the empty corridor. "Sorry, I forgot it's almost lights out."

"Have you had sleep?" Her hand almost came up to touch his face but pulled back at the sound of someone down the hall. "You look exhausted."

"I feel it." John shook his head, "I've been working since last night. I'm sure you've already heard about Matron Sadler's passing."

"I received a few things of mine from intake back so I hope you don't think me a horrible person for saying I'm glad she's no longer around to torment me."

"I'm glad she's not going to cause further disruptions to my patients." John flexed his jaw. "Except they'll not be my patients much longer."

"What do you mean?"

"Mr. Crawley just informed me, this morning, that the board is replacing me with another doctor."

"No," Anna shook her head, her hair whipping into her face. "They can't."

"They can. As sure as they put me here they can remove me. That's their job." John coughed, "I wanted to warn you."

"What'll I do, if you're gone?"

"I've made it clear to Robert that I insist on meeting the new doctor and running through patient care and notes personally. I won't leave everyone here in a lurch."

"What about Father Green?" Anna trembled and John put his hands on her arms to steady her. "Without you here he'll…"

"He'll not get in. I'll discuss that with the new doctor."

"If the board's against you then they'll not give you someone you can turn against him."

"I'm persuasive."

"Not enough." Anna shook her head. "He convinced Doctor Laing I was mad and the Doctor was one of the most honest and kind hearted individuals I've ever met."

"He didn't convince me."

Anna's lips quirked to a small smile. "You're not like anyone else John."

John sighed, his hands slipping down her arms to hold her hands in his. "What do you want me to do Anna? I can't fight them and Robert's already done all he can."

She waited a beat. "Take me with you."

"What?"

"Get me out of here."

"They've rejected my last two recommendations after the hearing I bungled in October." John narrowed his eyes. "How do I get you out without everyone knowing I did it?"

"I vanish first and then you leave after me."

"It'll be a stain on my record."

"Not if you retire because it broke your heart that your patient's case wasn't heard and she vanished rather than risk it."

John shook his head, "If anyone heard you speak they'd know you're not mad."

"Or they'd think I was mad for proposing this." Anna lowered her voice as the lights in the hall dimmed. "With Matron Sadler gone they'll be a temporary power vacuum. You've got to train the new doctor so all eyes are on you. If I can get out when they're all looking at you then no one'll be the wiser."

"Wiser about how we colluded?" John took a deep breath. "We'll need help."

"Sybil'll help us."

"I can't ask her to risk that."

"That's the beauty of it," Anna smiled, "It'll be no risk at all."


	19. Angels

John picked up the phone and dialed. The card, trembling a bit in his hand, steadied as John heard the voice on the other end. "Yes, I'm looking for Mr. Carson. This is John Bates, from the Downton Mental Hospital."

"Mr. Bates it's a pleasure to hear your voice." The joy on the other end sounded from the deep bass of the owner. "Are you ready for me to get you away from the nut house?"

"Not quite," John turned toward the door as the knob turned. "I'm wondering if you could be here on time for a quick pick up."

"Running away are you?"

John smiled, "Nothing like that."

"Then send me the time and date when you have them and there I'll be."

"I'll call you back this evening with the particulars." John's eyes widened as a short woman stepped through the door. "I've got to run now but thank you, Mr. Carson, you've been very helpful."

"Always a pleasure to be of service."

The line went dead and John lowered his end to the cradle as the woman stepped forward and extended a hand. "You didn't have quite so many lines on your face when I had you in your freshly laundered coat at the training hospital Doctor Bates." The woman's grip was as firm as the brogue to her voice.

"I think we're both a little more lined now than we used to be." John heartily shook her hand. "How are you Doctor Hughes?"

"Better now I can be of some real assistance instead of sitting back and watching the young make me irrelevant." Her face sobered from her smile, "What've you done to make me needed here John?"

"I tossed a priest out of the doors."

Doctor Hughes's eyebrows almost disappeared under her hair. "You did what?"

"He was pestering one of my patients and he'd assaulted her before. I warned him away and he chose not to listen. It was no more than he deserved."

"I seem to remember you taking liberties in terms of driving your fist through the face of another student who touched a nurse inappropriately so I shouldn't be surprised." She walked over to the desk, "Does it have enough storage space?"

"More than adequate." John pulled open the bottom drawer and removed the files there. "These are the patients."

"Take me through the serious cases first and update me on the others." She pulled her hair back, tightening it up on the top of her hair and took half the stack to the sofa. "I want to know what I'm up against here."

"Now that the Matron's passed and the head nurse is a bit more… pliable, I'd say you're in a better position than me." John brought the other pile over, hurrying to explain when Doctor Hughes's confusion etched onto the woman's face. "The Matron was stealing from the patients and the hospital. She poisoned herself rather than face possible charges."

"What a desperate woman." Doctor opened a file, skimming the contents.

"You once said that not all mental deficiencies were evident by actions we saw immediately. That some are better at hiding who they are." John quickly sorted the rest of the files into piles and pointed to the first. "These are the serious ones. We've got a few isolation rooms and padded areas that we've used for them on occasion."

"Do they tend toward the violent?"

"Not usually. But the smallest things have set them off before and they've got full-time nurses assigned to their specific care."

"I do hope you worked a rota for that."

"Of course. It's too much for one person to face day in and day out." John pulled a few to the top. "These three are violent towards themselves. He's claimed the Devil spoke to him and wanted him to jump from the roof. Or gardener saw him and they took a tumble into the rose bushes but it was… frightening. She's convinced she can see the legions of Nazi's that chased her from her home in Poland and grabs whatever she can to fight them off."

"Auditory and visual hallucinations." Doctor Hughes nodded, tapping the last one. "And him?"

"He believes he's a woman, named Dany, and asks that we give him privacy in the bath to respect his modesty." John shrugged, "He wouldn't be in the pile except for the fact we had a nurse, now dismissed, who made a show of it and then embarrassed him to the point he grabbed a pair of scissors and drove it into the nurse's thigh."

"You had a nurse tormenting these patients?"

John nodded, "He took his guidance from our head nurse, which I only found out when I questioned Mr. Carlisle. He told me that Mr. Barrow egged Mr. Kent on about it."

"I thought you recommended Mr. Kent to me because you thought he was a good nurse."

"He is and I did." John sighed, "The issue was he listened to bad advice. Mr. Barrow, the head nurse, is still here and when I questioned Mr. Kent about his actions he revealed to me that Mr. Barrow's got a few demons in his own closet."

"The kind we lock men in a dark room for?"

"The kind that means his interest in Mr. Kent was more than friendly at the start."

"Ah."

"I don't mean to offend your sensibilities."

"I hope you're not surprised then, John, when I tell you that he won't be the first of his 'kind' I've ever met." Doctor Hughes put her finger on the middle pile. "And these?"

"They're long-term. I've gone through most of them and those that haven't settled in here for the long haul are those who need to be. They're controlled by irrational impulses and completely unsocialized."

"The others?"

"They're the ones with nowhere else to go." John shook his head, "The hardest part of this job, Doctor, is that I recognize the way some of these people've given up. They don't know what cured is anymore and they've decided they've nowhere else to go. They've got no family, no friends outside this place, and they need the routine we provide. We've educated them to be here."

"And turned them madder in the end." Doctor Hughes sighed, "We're all mad here."

"If they weren't when they came in then they are now." John gestured to the last pile. "Those. Most of them could be released to work programs and back to their families within the year if they continue to make real progress."

"What about Mr. Carlisle?"

"He's better now. Still insisting I call him Dany on occasion but I've gotten to a point where he can separate those desires from his others. As long as he had someone he could keep as a touchstone then he'd be fine."

"And the other patient?" John frowned, "The one assaulted by the priest you chucked out the door."

"She's ready for release. I'd suspect it'll be no time at all and she'll be back in the world with no problems at all." John checked his watch, "She's actually due for her session if you'd like to sit in on it."

"I think I should see how you've done with it." Doctor Hughes took the files back to the desk, sorting them in as she needed and then closing the drawers. "If it's not too impertinent to ask, John, who was on the phone?"

"I was calling the bus for a schedule." John met Doctor Hughes's eyes. "My mother's not been well and I want to make sure she's doing alright this afternoon."

"Does someone stay with her?"

"I do as much as possible but my brother Robbie's finally dragged himself back from America to take some time with her."

"Didn't you have a sister as well?"

"Her twins are ill in London and her husband's abroad with the bank."

Doctor Hughes shook her head, "It's hard when we're faced with the reality that we're just human and there's not enough of us to go around."

"Quite." John went to the door, opening it at the sound of the knock.

Sybil smiled at him, stepping inside as Anna followed her. "I hope you don't mind. I wanted to know the new doctor."

"Elsie Hughes," She came around the desk, shaking Sybil's hand and then Anna's. "I do hope we all get to know one another better."

"Sybil Crawley or Student Nurse Crawley." Sybil put a hand on Anna's shoulder. "And this is Anna Bancroft, one of our models here."

"I wouldn't say that." She ducked her head but caught John's eye.

"Well, I won't keep you." Sybil nodded to them and vanished down the corridor as John offered Anna the sofa.

"I hope you don't mind Doctor Hughes sitting here during your session." John took his seat as Doctor Hughes found herself a spot on the other cushioned chair by the sofa. "She wants to get to know you and thought it'd be best if we did it while the two of us could make it less abrupt."

"If only Doctor Laing had the same option."

John smiled, "I'm not sure Doctor Laing knew he was leaving the way I know I am."

"I'm…" Anna twisted her fingers in her hand. "I'm ever so sorry you're going."

"So am I, if we're being honest." John adjusted. "I've made friends here and been happier than I believe I had any right to be."

"What'll you do, when you leave?"

John shrugged, "Maybe find another hospital where I can work. Or perhaps I'll retire early and do something else. Maybe run a hotel."

"I just… I can't help feeling like it's all my fault." Anna dropped her hands to her lap. "You were only doing what you thought I needed and it's… It's not right."

"Defending someone is never wrong. And no, it's not right, but it's part of the frustration of life that it's neither fair nor always right."

"That's what heaven's for, as they say." Doctor Hughes added her opinion and Anna turned to her.

"Are you a religious woman, Doctor?"

"Very. My family's believed very steadily since we wore tartan and fought off the English." She smiled, "And you're right, I do wish Doctor Bates here was staying."

"Do you know one another well?"

"I trained him." Doctor Hughes made a show of shuddering. "I hoped he would last longer out here but I guess I can't take him anywhere."

The session proceeded much the same, the conversation traveling between the three of them until another knock came at the door. John stood, opening it, and greeted Edith. "It seems our time's up."

"There's never enough of it." Doctor Hughes shook Anna's hand and held it. "I look forward to getting to know you better Ms. Bancroft. You seem like a very special soul."

"I hope I'm as special as you." Anna smiled back, crossing the room. Her hand brushed John's and he grasped the paper she tucked there. "Thank you, Doctor Bates."

"Always a pleasure Ms. Bancroft. I'll see you next week." She left with Sybil and John turned to see Doctor Hughes standing at his elbow as Edith took her seat on the sofa. "You startled me."

"And you'd better be careful."

"Careful about?"

"I saw the way you two spoke to one another, John, and I may be old but I'm not an idiot. I know how that sort of thing works." She shook her head, "You'll get yourself in trouble you can't escape with another job if you follow through on what I saw."

"I'm her doctor, Elsie." John assured her, walking to Edith. "I've never been anything but professional."

"And I trust you but I know the look in your eyes and I want to make sure you know it too." She took her seat, shaking hands with Edith. "It's good to meet you, I'm Elsie Hughes, the new doctor here."

The day continued with the sessions and then a tour of the facility. John and Doctor Hughes even walked to the village for dinner to give her a lay of the land. When they returned to the hospital John helped Elsie find her room and then returned to his office to finally open the paper Anna handed him earlier.

Unfolding it he read the contents and then pulled the phone close to his ear. His finger managed the rotary, dialing the number on the card half-tucked under the edge of the body, and waited. A voice at the other end answered and John smiled in spite of himself.

"Mr. Carson, I've got the time for you."

* * *

John waited, his foot tapping air where it sat on his knee, and he grabbed it with his hand to stop it moving. The woman on the other side of the desk read to the last page and then put the packet on her desk. She interlaced her fingers, eyeing him carefully.

"This is your first novel?"

"I've written articles and pieces before this."

"But this is your first novel?" She knocked her knuckle against it. "It's good. Not without it's need for editing and perhaps a bit of brevity but it's alright for someone's first try out."

"Thank you." John shuffled in the chair, bringing his feet together on the floor. "I guess I didn't think about it like that."

"Why else would you want to publish a story like this one Mr. Bates?" The woman smiled at him, "People don't usually go to the trouble of getting meetings like this is they're not thinking about trying it out."

"I did it because I needed to tell the story." John shrugged, "I don't have any ulterior motives with it really Ms. Lane-Fox."

"None at all?"

"I'm only hoping to get a bit more distance with it."

"Distance with it?" Ms. Lane-Fox frowned, "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean by that."

"Do you read the paper I write for?"

"Only the articles that pop up on my Facebook, if I'm honest, and occasionally those I scroll through between meetings."

"Exactly." John opened his hands. "My article, when I publish it, might get some traction and gain a decent bit of attention but it won't reach everyone."

"A children's book won't either. Unless you're delivering it door-to-door you're not going to find it in everyone's hands."

"I just need it to find a few hands." John sighed, "I don't know the end of the story."

"I did notice it doesn't finish like I was expecting."

"That's because there's an end to it I don't know. I may never know it but I want to try and see what I could get to end it, if the end exists." John bit his lip, "I'm rambling and must sound half-mad."

"We're all mad here, Mr. Bates." She made a note. "But this'll get the attention it needs and I can't promise it'll be a quick publish but we'll get an editor to you and start working on getting you and this the attention it deserves."

They stood, John shaking her hand. "Thank you, Ms. Lane-Fox."

"Mabel, please." She smiled, "If we're working together I want us talking like friends."

"Alright." John took his hand back. "Then I insist you call me John."

"Then I insist that I tell you, John," Mabel's face sobered. "It's beautiful."

"Thank you. It's not mine but I needed to tell it for someone." He checked his watch, "Bollocks, I'm late for another meeting."

"Don't let me stop you." Mabel gave him a warning look, "Unless you're about to try and shop this to someone else. Then I'll bar the doors on you."

"It's just a friend." John dashed from the room, taking the stairs when he just missed the lift doors closing.

When he reached the ground floor he flagged down a cab, all but jumping in it as it still moved and gasped the instructions as he checked his bag and the contents. The cabbie worked through the traffic and pulled to a stop at the address and John slid his card through the screen before leaving the cab. Inside the little café he tried to catch his breath, waving off the hostess as he noticed Anna and another woman chatting in the back corner.

The tables felt too close together as John moved himself between the limited space and took the empty chair at the table. He heaved a deep breath, situating his bag, and nodded at the woman. "I apologize for being late Lady Mary, it took far longer than I intended to get here."

"Traffic bad?" She lifted her cup to her lips, her pinkie out in a motion that dated her family name and the blood she carried. "I haven't been to London in an age but I don't remember it being this bad."

"It's the nature of the beast." Anna confided, turning to John. "Did she like it?"

"They'll publish it. Not fast and it needs some editing and other help or whatever to make it suitable but she likes it."

"What's this?" Lady Mary put the cup back down on the saucer and frowned.

"This." John reached into his bag. He extracted his iPad, turning it on with his thumb on the button, and swiping to get the document readable. "I've taken the story I wrote here and converted it to a children's book."

"We had an agreement, Mr. Bates." Lady Mary's brow furrowed as she took the iPad from him and read the article typed there. "I was to have final say on all documents published about my family."

"This actually only has to do with Anna Bancroft and it'll help us find her."

"Find her?" Lady Mary's eyes only flicked up toward him, her focus entirely on devouring the words before her as she scrolled up at least once every thirty seconds. "You think she can be found?"

"I'd like to think so." John took a deep breath, "We gathered some other evidence that had us believing her disappearance from the hospital in nineteen-sixty-six wasn't death. We think she escaped."

"What makes you think that?" Lady Mary finished the article, handing it back to John's wide eyes. "I'm a speed reader and I've got eidetic memory. It's not hard for me to look at something and remember it."

"Must make business meetings excessively dull."

"They are, for different reasons." Lady Mary folded her hands on the tabletop, "Not I asked a question that you just avoided and I'd like to know the answer."

"This." John pulled the journal out of his bag as another woman joined their table. "Ah, Ms. Baxter, how nice to see you again."

"It's been a bit, hasn't it?" She shook Anna's hand across the table. "How are you Doctor Smith?"

"Well enough." Anna pointed to the book, "For the moment we'd like to submit that to your section of the exhibit you're doing about Anna Bancroft."

"She wrote a journal?"

"Her psychiatrist did and we've read it." John took a breath, facing Lady Mary. "Which is why we're inclined to believe your great-aunt is still alive."

"Because a journal said so?"

"Because he's the one who helped her escape the asylum in the first place."

"And you want to find her?" Lady Mary sniffed at John's shrug. "Despite the fact I will allow you to publish the article, it doesn't disparage my family's name or the like and therefore won't ruin anything I've built, I wonder why we should bother to find someone who hasn't wanted anything to do with my family in sixty years?"

"Because I think she did want something to do with them but didn't get the chance." John risked it, "Don't you want to know how the story ends?"

* * *

He waited for her, checking his watch repeatedly. The steady tick almost mocked him in the stillness of the evening. All the other sounds of the night muted in the interminable ticking of his watch. For a moment he thought about pacing but it would only make his leg ache and draw attention to him. The spot under the trees served the specific purpose of hiding him from the nurses walking their night rounds with the light to their benefit and his detriment. Stillness was his friend but, for the moment, it felt like his enemy.

A sound from the bushes disturbed him and John jumped in place. His head caught in the bushes but he extracted himself without much disturbance and gripped the borrowed cane more firmly and her suitcase as if to swing one or the other in defense. But his shoulders dropped in relief echoed in his sigh as Anna emerged from the bushes in a patch of darkness.

"I thought they might've caught you." He set the suitcase on the ground, pulling the coat draped over his shoulder to give her protection against the chill of the evening that left dew sparkling on the grass. "Doctor Hughes is a stickler for routine."

"No." Anna slipped her arms into the coat sleeves and took her suitcase, testing the weight. "The new Matron thinks I'm troublesome but she and the other Student Nurses never check to see if I swallow the pills since I'm not one of the troublesome ones."

John stopped her, putting a hand to her cheek. "It's all over now Anna. You never have to think about pills or Matrons or Student Nurses or doctors of this place ever again."

"I know." She covered his hand with hers, smiling before turning to place a kiss on his palm. "We get to start over John. Just you and I, together."

"Just us." He offered her his arm. "Best get you moving. The bus'll be here soon and I want us on it before anyone decides to take their rounds of the wards earlier than usual."

"Wouldn't tonight just be the night for them to break with routine." Anna agreed, keeping pace with John as they walked.

"I just want them all confused as to where you'd go."

"Where am I going?"

"A little place close enough by I can see you and make further plans but enough out of the way no one'll think to look there."

"As long as it's with you, I'll go anywhere."

John grinned at her, "For now, home."

"That sounds wonderful."

They hurried to the bus stop, holding close to one another in the dark. Under the glow of a single street lamp, John wrapped a hand around Anna's waist to pull her close enough to kiss the top of her head. She cuddled into him, her deep breath pulling the scent from his jacket and onto her so they were one and the same.

The bus stopped before them, brakes releasing with a gust of air and a squeal that had John's teeth on edge, and the doors cranked open for them. Mr. Carson grinned, tipping his hat in their direction and John let Anna up the stairs first.

"Jail break is it?" Mr. Carson shook Anna's hand. "There's a seat right behind me for you dear. You just rest there and you'll be at your destination in no time. Trust me on that."

"Thank you Mr. Carson." She shook his hand and John hurried to pay their fare before joining her.

Their fingers intertwined on the seat between them and Anna scooted closer to him so she could rest her head on his shoulder. Her fingers trembled in his grip and John squeezed for a moment until they relaxed. Anna's whole body sighed with the effort and he brushed her hair to the side.

"It's alright." He soothed, keeping his voice quiet despite the fact no one else was on the bus and the night settled over the village as they passed through it. "Sleep now and when you wake up we'll be far away from here."

"I just…" She shook her head, "I can't help thinking this is a dream and when I wake up it'll be over."

"It's the best dream because, when you wake up, it'll have come true."

"Thank you John." Anna ran her fingers over his hand. "I left a note, for them to give to my family. I want them to know I'm alright and that I'll contact them when I get wherever we're going."

"That sounds like a good idea." John chewed the inside of his cheek. "I do worry they'll try to get you back here if they find you."

"Why?"

"Technically you're still a ward of the state and I abducted you." John kissed her head again. "But that's all semantics and it'll be fine."

"Won't you be in trouble?"

"Only if they think I've got something to do with it." John nodded at Mr. Carson, "And he's the only one, other than you, who'll know anything about it."

"So it's our little secret?" Anna shivered, "How exciting. You're giving me my own little adventure."

"It's my pleasure." John looked down as Anna turned her head to look toward him. "I'd do anything to help you be happy Anna. I love you."

"And I love you." She risked a quick kiss before pulling back. "However, whenever, wherever."

"And whatever." John agreed, "From the beginning of eternity to the end of time itself."

"That's very poetic."

"You bring out the poet in me." John grinned, "Sleep now. We'll be there before you know it."

The bus trundled down the road and stopped as the darkest of the night settled on them. John helped Anna get her suitcase off the bus and carried it to the door of a cottage that appeared indistinguishable from the others around them. He raised his fist and rapped on the wood three times before waiting. The door opened and John beamed at the man there.

"Hello Robbie."

"Been awhile Jack." They embraced and the younger, more rugged, slimmer version of John pulled back to see Anna. "And you brought a friend."

"She's the one I told Mother about and she'll explain it all later." John helped Anna in through the sitting room and into the back bedroom. "When my mother wakes she'll tell you the rest of the plan and then make you more comfortable here. I won't be back until after I resign so you'll have to make do with whatever I include in my letters to my mother."

John examined the space and nodded before facing Anna. "I hope this is alright."

"It's perfectly fine." Anna hugged him. "You've already done so much for me."

"It's nothing and you'll be safe here Anna, I promise you that." John kissed her quickly. "I need to go before anyone knows I've been missing and Mr. Carson charges me more than I can afford."

"What is the going rate for getting someone out of state custody?"

John shrugged, "Worth it to me."

"Me too."

"I'll see you as soon as I can." John risked one more kiss, patted his brother's shoulder, and then dashed back to the bus.

Taking his seat as Mr. Carson closed the bus door and worked through the village to turn back toward the hospital, he heard Mr. Carson speak. "She must be worth something for you to give it all up for her."

"She's worth more than that Mr. Carson."

"Then I only have one request."

"Oh?" John leaned over his seat to meet Mr. Carson's eyes in the mirror. "And what's that?"

"You take good care of her. And find a way to introduce me to the new doctor."

"Technically that's two requests."

"You would do the first one anyway." Mr. Carson winked, "The second one was for me."


	20. Endings

John removed the microphone and threaded the wire through his shirt to hand to the assistant as his pocket vibrated. Between the two of them they managed to get it all sorted as his finger slid the indicator to connect the call. "John Bates."

"Mr. Bates it's Alex. Alex Green… the younger, female one."

"Right." John nodded at the assistant as she pantomimed taking the call elsewhere. "How can I help you?"

"I know you probably won't have great feelings about this but my grandfather passed away yesterday and I thought you should know."

"You're right, I don't know how to feel about that." John pushed through the door, blinking in the sunlight as he raised his other hand to block his eyes. "I'm curious why you're letting me know."

"I read your article and he did as well. In his final hours he told me I needed to tell you a few things. Thing he wanted to tell you but couldn't tell you himself. Not the way he was or with his time running out."

"Should we meet somewhere Ms. Green?"

"Are you up in Manchester anytime soon?"

"I'm going to be there this weekend, once all these interviews end and I can get away from it." John raked a hand through his hair, regretting it as the sun blinded him again. "Could I meet you somewhere Saturday morning?"

"I'll text you a place. I've got my girlfriend coming, if that's alright."

"That should be fine." John smiled, "It might sound strange but we've met."

"Jane mentioned that. She also mentioned that her grandmother thanks you for the lovely children's book. It's one she's been reading lately."

"I hoped she'd enjoy it." John turned as the door opened the same assistant ushered him back inside. "Alex, please text me the location and the time and I'll see you this weekend."

"Thank you Mr. Bates."

He ended the call and turned it to silent. "It was a commercial break."

"Not for real." They walked together, the girl weaving the wire back through John's shirt. "I thought you would've been used to all this. You've been doing this for three months now."

"I'm a first-time author, Rose." John raised his hands as Rose attached the battery pack to the back of his trousers and arranged his shirt in place. "This is all new."

"Why couldn't I be the assistant to your girlfriend?" Rose adjusted the microphone, covering it as she spoke to John outside the door. "She got it."

"She's a different kind of professional."

"Still better than you." Rose pushed him through the door. "Off you go. Tell me about your children's book."

"What else would I talk about?"

"I don't know and I don't want to think about it. Not after what you did on _Graham Norton_."

"That was a simple mistake."

"It cost us a lot of press." Rose made a face, fixing John's collar and shirt.

"All press is good press."

"That's a lie people tell you to make you think you can do anything and then they can use it against you later." Rose pushed him through the door, "Now get going and finish this."

John smiled and shook the hand in front of him. "Good to see you again."

The rest of the week passed in a blur of Rose getting him out of bed, managing the shuffle from one destination to the next, and finally rolling him onto a surface where he could sleep at night. They barely spoke and when they did it was only to give him instructions or correct something for the next interview. He occasionally fielded calls she did not catch and chatted with Anna when he had a moment Rose had not blocked perfectly in a schedule with so many colors John got dizzy staring at it.

Friday afternoon they walked out of the last interview and John grabbed his bag. "I'll see you-"

"Hopefully never, if we're being honest." Rose shook her head, "Overall you were fine, as a client John, but I think you're not made for the show of all this."

"Should I be?"

"For a man who once interviewed a genocidal dictator without blinking an eye, I thought you could manage Graham Norton better than you did."

"Still harping on that are you?"

"It's still circling social media so yes, I'm still harping on it." Rose sighed, "At least it was the only failure I had with you. It could've been worse."

"I'm not an interviewee."

"That was obvious." Rose stuck out her hand. "Good luck in your future endeavors. I really did like your article and my daughter loves your book."

"You've got a daughter?"

"I've got two. Rachel and Sophie." She smiled at him, "I guess we never did get to know one another."

"I guess we didn't."

"If," Rose dug into her Mary Poppins bag and held out a copy of John's book. "Would you sign it, for them?"

"Sure." John wrote quickly and handed it back as the driver shouted from the cab. "I wish you the best."

"And to you Mr. Bates." She waved him off, catching another cab as John got into his.

"Waterloo station please."

John slumped in his seat on the train, the rocking sending him to sleep in moments as he traveled north. Someone jostled his shoulder as the announcer said they reached Manchester and John gathered his things quickly to exit in the same queue as the others. His feet touched the platform and he managed a step away from the train before a weight hit his chest.

His arms automatically wrapped around the body and held her close. "I missed you too."

"Let's never go so long without seeing each other." Her arms loosened and John waited for her legs to uncurl so he could set Anna on the ground. "I can't endure that again."

"You were the one who decided you needed to make a breakthrough in children's cancer and had to go gallivanting off to a load of medical conferences." John teased, kissing her as he grabbed his bag and arranged it so they could hold hands and walking out of the station together. "I only published a children's book."

"Maybe you shouldn't have thought about publishing a book when I decided to make a breakthrough." She kissed him again. "But I'm so proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too."

"Although," Anna cringed and John frowned. "It could've been better."

"Better?"

"I saw your interview on _Graham Norton_." Anna shuddered, "What were you thinking, saying that to Dame Maggie Smith?"

"I didn't know what else to say."

"You couldn't have said it to anyone else?"

"I didn't know the young guy and the American wouldn't talk at all."

Anna sighed, "The young guy was Jack Whitehall, who's a genius by the way, and the American was Jennifer Lawrence."

"Whatever. It's over and I only embarrassed myself in front of a few million people." John pulled Anna closer. "But that's in the past and this is the present and, in the present, I'm back with you. That's all that matters."

"Yes." Anna held him closer. "But promise me, next time you write a book that sets the nation on fire, you try your best to prep a little more for your interviews."

"Promise." They weaved toward Anna's car and John set his things in the boot, checking his watch. "We've got a few hours."

"Few hours?" Anna paused, leaning on the door. "To do what?"

"I'm meeting Alex in the morning and she's bringing Jane." John got into the passenger seat and pushed it back to extend out. "You want to come?"

"I've not met Jane and I liked what little I met of Alex." Anna got into her seat, turning the engine over. "The apple does fall far from the tree a few times."

"Yes it does." John agreed. "She said her grandfather died on Sunday."

"Oof." Anna shook her head, "That's hard, even when your grandfather's a massive prick."

"I think that makes it worse. It's easy to miss someone who was good and gave you all the best memories to keep you comfort when you mourn. It's harder to miss someone who was a complete ass and leaves you feeling conflicted and confused." John shook his head. "She said he read the article I wrote and had something he wanted to tell me at the end. I guess it started him thinking about some things he needed to get off his chest before he left the world."

"I didn't know Anglicanism believed in deathbed confession."

"It's not a religious ideal to which I prescribe but you do what you can I think. No one wants to contemplate the idea of an eternity pushing rocks up cliffs or reaching for a drink they'll never get." John tapped his fingers under the window on the door. "Do you ever think about what happened to them?"

"You mean after the end of the journal?" Anna glanced toward him, going with the green light. "He gave us a version of his happily ever after and that's enough for me. We've both seen his gravestone so we know that John's passed on."

"Is that enough for you?"

"I trust he lived a good life. We know he married."

"But did he marry Anna Bancroft?"

Anna smiled, "You really are like a dog with a bone."

"I can't help it. It's the journalist in me." John shuffled in his seat, the thoughts bubbling in addictive and contagious fashion, "What about her? She's not buried next to him so whomever John married could still be alive."

"You want to find her so you can interview her about that 'happily ever after' don't you?"

"I want to know the end of her story and see if it can end a bit happier for Lady Mary's family as well."

Anna frowned, "How'd you mean?"

"Imagine if we could reunite the disparate members of the family and help try and make a family one again."

"It's a noble goal."

John turned to Anna. "It's one I'd like to accomplish and I'd like your help if you're willing."

"I'm always willing John." Anna winked at him, "In more ways than one."

"It's why I asked about whether or not you had a few hours free." John let his finger trail up Anna's arm. "I wanted to welcome you back from your hero's tour with all the affection I can muster."

"I'm sure you've got more than enough skill in that department." Anna drove them back to her house, pulling to a stop in her driveway. "In other situations I might suggest we simply carry on here but I've got a feeling you spent awhile thinking up this scenario."

"I had almost two months to think about what I'd do." John grabbed her hand. "Could I ask you something that might be far too forward?"

"Says the man who said he wanted children with me after knowing me a week." Anna draped her arm on the gearbox between them. "What's your rather forward proposal? Because if it's a quickie in the car I'm all in."

"Not this time, no." John took her hands with his. "It's a bit more long term."

"I don't know if I can take all the suspense."

"I want to ask if you'll marry me." John watched Anna's face as she kept her face blank. "I know it's quick but…"

"Why?"

John frowned, "Why what?"

"Why do you want to marry me?"

"Because no one's looked at me like you do. No one's taken the time to care about me the way you do. You care about the things that matter to me and you want a future and-"

"Even if it's with other people's children?"

"They'll be our children if we want them to be." John smiled at her. "I think there's more to you than what I've seen and I want to spend the rest of my life peeling back the layers. I want to marry you because being away from you this long was torture and maybe it's too fast or maybe it's-"

Anna did not allow him to finish as her lips planted on his.

A moment later she broke away from him and smiled, running her thumb over his cheek. "I want to spend the rest of my life peeling back your layers too because I think I've waited too long for someone like you to love me."

"Then it's a yes?"

"I don't think I'd say I love you if it wasn't."

John kissed her, "You didn't say it yet."

"Alright then," Anna made a show of gathering herself and stared him straight on. "John Bates, writer of children's books and life-changing articles, I love you."

"And you, Anna Smith, curer of children and fighter of cancer, I love you."

They leaned over and kissed one another again before John tugged her hand. "Come on, before we waste too much time in this car and not enough where I want to spend time with you."

Anna giggled and left the car, dashing off as John struggled to get his things from the car and join her in the house. He entered the foyer and saw Anna's shoes by the door. John left his with hers and then dropped his things outside the sitting room when he noticed her belt and trousers in the corridor leading toward the stairs.

With a grin he unbuttoned his shirt and hurried up the stairs, leaving bits of his clothing as compliments to hers as he went. He reached her room, with its door tempting in its half-opened state, and pushed forward to see Anna laying prostrate on her bed, naked as the day she was born. Stalking over to her, John put his hands on the bed and held himself over her.

"You're getting ahead of me Ms. Smith."

"Maybe I should help you then." Before John could move she shifted over the duvet and put her mouth over him.

John's hand flew out, hitting the wall to try and hold himself up, and he grunted. His other hand wove toward her hair, running rivulets through her tresses. When she took a particularly hard suck he bucked toward her and then dug in a bit with his fingers when she swirled her tongue over him.

When he could not take another minute, John lifted her by her arms and pulled her close enough to kiss. They moved over one another slowly as John lifted her clear and put her back to the wall next to the bed. His hands could not hold her move carefully as her legs wrapped around him. A careful finger ran over her until Anna writhed against him and he joined them with a determined thrust.

His hands held tightly to her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin as they moved, and Anna tightened the grip with her knees. Another shift and John settled deeper inside her, pulling all the way to the edge before driving back in again. Each motion left them clutching tighter and tighter at one another as their heartbeats thundered together and their breathing ran ragged in their ears.

Before John knew it, Anna's nails dug claw-like lines over his shoulders to replace the long-forgotten ones from so long ago, and she finished with the cry of his name. He followed her urging, responded to the quivering cling of her walls, and then joined her in the haze of blissful completion. They shifted carefully to the bed and John laid them down so they cuddled close together.

"There's more to come later."

"I'm sure you wouldn't disappoint me." Anna dug her face into his neck, holding him close with her hand at his shoulder.

"Was that disappointing?"

"Not at all. I'm just looking forward to later, when we don't have to rush."

"Did you think it was rushed?"

"I think we need a balance between the two. We've had the fast and, in a bit, we can have the slow." She smiled at him, kissing over his jaw. "I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

John helped Anna from the car and checked the parking. "I hate parallel parking."

"I think you did fine." Anna pointed, "Alex is already inside."

"Right."

They entered the coffee shop, taking the other two seats across from Alex and her girlfriend, Jane. John shook their hands and introduced Anna to Jane. "Sorry we're a bit late."

"No need for explanations or excuses." Alex dug into her bag and pulled out a small piece of paper. "I hope you don't mind, I brought the letter he dictated to me and I thought I'd read it aloud but-"

"Before you start," John put a hand out, over the paper quivering in Alex's hand. "Do you want to get a coffee or something, settle your nerves?"

"It's a bit early to settle my nerves." Alex smiled, her hands calming a touch. "And it's… It's difficult."

"If you don't want to do this now we can wait until you're ready." Anna cut in, nodding at Jane with her hand rubbing over Alex's arm. "It might be too soon."

"As odd as it may sound, I think it's the only way to get this all off my chest. To feel right about any of this." Alex took a deep breath, "I wasn't close, with my grandfather. We lived in the same house and we shared the space but he put a distance between himself and his family a long time ago that was difficult to cross. And since he never did we, my parents and I, didn't really make an effort to get to where he was."

Alex stared at the paper in her hand, almost forcing it to still. "When he passed he told me things that… They fit with the man I knew him to be, feared him to be in a way, but he also told me things that made me realize that I didn't know him at all." She looked up at John and Anna. "He wasn't a good man. I don't even think he was anywhere near decent but he was human and I didn't see that until it was too late to do anything about it."

"What would you do, if you could?" John held her gaze and Alex handed the paper to him.

"I would've been brave enough to read this myself."

John took it, putting a hand over hers. "I think you were brave to come today. That's enough for me."

"Then I'll take that as it is." Alex stood, Jane standing with her. "I hope you remember my request, Mr. Bates, about Ms. Bancroft."

"If she's got herself a headstone somewhere we'll be visiting it and be glad to invite you along."

Alex frowned, "Do you think she doesn't?"

"I'd like to think she's still alive."

"Then," Alex swallowed, "I'd like to give her my apologies in person, if that's alright as well."

"I'll let you know what we find." John held up the letter. "Thank you, for this."

"I don't know if you should thank me for it yet." Alex nodded at the letter. "As I said, it proved my grandfather was exactly the man I always thought he was."

Alex and Jane left the café and John waited a moment before turning to Anna. "I think we should read this somewhere else."

"I agree."

She took the keys, leading them back to the car and driving them to a park. They stayed in the car, rolling the windows down to allow the autumn breeze to break up the tension as John opened the letter. He unfolded it and cleared his throat to begin.

" _If these are to be my last words on this earth then I wish to leave those that would spare my conscience as I pass into the next life. Whatever waits for me there is sure to be the fire and brimstone promised to those who have done to others what I've done. Laying here, on the edge of death, I recognize now the full weight of my guilt and it suffocates me._

 _I can bear the burden no longer and I owe it to those I have harmed to, in some small way, repair that damage. Nothing I do will ever be enough. Nothing've I've done has been enough._

 _When Mr. Bates called at my house with Doctor Smith I had a strange reversal of time and place. I remembered the last time I last time Ms. Bancroft spoke to me. I remembered the day Doctor Bates visited me. And my mind began to filter itself through all those memories and they've pressed on my mind since that day. Those thoughts are those I needed to express before I meet the God who can be nothing but disappointed in me._

 _When Anna Bancroft disappeared I feared I'd killed her. I had taken to drinking excessively after Doctor Bates had thrown me from the hospital and I blacked out for long periods. I feared, in my rage and drunkenness, I'd killed her and now could neither remember the details nor where it happened. I joined the searches for her and even risked the malice of my jealous wife to find her but no trace was ever recovered._

 _Doctor Bates left the hospital shortly after that. The board had already arranged his departure but he cut his tenure even shorter, claiming the actions of the board and the vanishing of Ms. Bancroft were the final stains to his character he could stand. I thought that would be the end of it but he took the time to visit me before he departed from my life forever._

* * *

John raised his hand and knocked on the door. It opened and the short waif of Ms. Braithwaite stood before him. She eyed him up and down before stepping back to allow him entrance. He walked the tight corridors of the home and into the open study. Father Green wrote something down at his desk before pulling a large map toward himself. John frowned at the sight, noting the fervor of Father Green's pen as it marked and scratched until he could take the incessant scrape no longer and cleared his throat.

Father Green jumped and then almost toppled backward into his chair in his haste to grab it for support. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question." John pointed to the map, "Sergeant Willis said you were very… adamant about helping find Ms. Bancroft."

"She's one of my parishioners and it's my duty to help save the lost sheep of my flock."

"She was lost to you a long time ago." John held his satchel in his hands and stepped toward the desk, pointing to a chair. "I hope you don't find me too impertinent if I ask to take a seat."

"Not sure you'd want to soil yourself with the furniture of my house seeing as your attitude toward me, in all respects, has been less than civil."

John snorted, "The pot can call the kettle what it likes, I guess."

"And I wouldn't let you sit since you've not answered my question yet." Father Green crossed his arms over his chest. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to give you a gift." John reached into the satchel and withdrew his journal, weighing it in his hand a moment before laying it on the edge of the desk. "I've left my post early."

"I heard." Father Green eyed the book but did not touch it. "Did her disappearance lay the last straw to break your back?"

"I won't have a man like you attempt to besmirch my character." John pulled his fingers into a fist. "I can't take the strain of thinking I failed a young woman left so horribly destroyed by your actions."

"I didn't destroy her."

"But you tried." John pulled a letter from his pocket. "This explains everything to her family and I hope you've the decency to give it to them. Allow them the peace the need after so much trial and heartache."

"I'm not the postman."

"But you are guilty." John placed the letter on top of the journal. "I know everything and while the board may not've done what was necessary to ruin you like you deserve, if you ever attempt to come after me or seek for Ms. Bancroft in the future I promise I'll take away your profession and everything that matters to you. With God as my witness I'll do it."

"If I do what, exactly?"

"Anything but leave it all alone." John stepped forward so only the desk was between them. "I'm done hiding from the world and I won't bear the strain of your secrets any longer. Take this, read it if you like, and know that I'm waiting for Judgment Day since I know you'll burn in Hell for what you've done."

"You don't know that."

"But I can hope." John nodded at the map, "Happy hunting Father Green. We won't see one another again."

* * *

John swallowed, " _But I never read his journal._

 _I never delivered the letter either. Like the others I commissioned Vera to destroy as she wrote them, this one too I burned. For a time I kept it, like a token, but it only poisoned my fingers. When I tried to hide it in the journal I refused to read I saw the last page where Doctor Bates wrote that he and Anna made it away. It did not say where they went or how they got there but that they were far away from my influence in a place I could never touch them again._

 _That's when I burned the letter. It tore at my soul to see how she wrote the truth to her family and to see that I had no effect on her. I wanted her to feel alone, isolated, and in need of me. But she scorned me, avoided me, and then escaped me. Where I hoped she'd turn to me she turned to him and then they ran off with their happily ever after while my own wife later took her own life. My daughter, my only child, no longer speaks to me and the bare minimum of contact between my granddaughter and I is all I can now expect from the world._

 _This is what I made for myself, the life I should expect is all I will ever have. The eternity that awaits me is not a happy one and I cannot expect to find any comfort in the death that lies before me. My sins are too numerous for forgiveness or to request such of any man. All I can do now is confess and make no excuses for my actions._

 _This is the truth and the last words I will ever say on this earth will be that._ "

John folded the letter back up as Anna snorted. "I guess now we know why Anna Bancroft's family never knew what happened to her."

"And why it'd've been hard for Alex to write this and then read it to us." John put a hand through his hair. "People suck."

"People are complicated." Anna shrugged, "And they do suck."

The silence broke with the vibration of John's phone and they both jumped. He fumbled it from his pocket, Anna taking the letter before John crushed it in his maneuvering to free his phone, and he slid the indicator to answer. "John Bates."

There was only breathing on the other end of the line and John frowned. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Sorry," The voice on the other end, laden with an accent, age, and what sounded like emotion, finally rasped through the speaker. "Your name threw me a moment."

"Do you have the wrong number?"

"Not if this is the man who wrote _Averi's Copy_ I don't."

"I'm sorry," John swallowed, putting the phone on speaker. "I don't usually field calls from fans on my private line."

"And I wouldn't be so forward Mr.… Mr. Bates if it weren't for your editor assisting me once I pled my case to him."

"Why would Michael give you this number ma'am?"

"Because, Mr. Bates, I'm Anna Bancroft and I want to tell you what happened after the 'happily ever after' you wrote in your book."


	21. Graves

John and Anna got out of the car, walking up the aged but well-loved walk to ring the bell on the side of the small but welcoming cottage. He made a business of inspecting a planter box in the window until Anna tugged on his sleeve. Almost jumping out of his skin, John turned to her and scowled when she tried to cover up her chuckle.

"It's not funny."

"It was to me."

"Me too." Both of them jumped as the door opened and an old woman with wrinkled hands and neatly combed gray hair stood in the space. "We need a good reason to laugh I think."

"Ms. Bancroft I hope you don't mind us interrupting your afternoon like this." John swallowed, pointing to himself and then Anna. "We just thought-"

"I'm more than grateful the two of you decided to make it your business to see me on such short notice." Ms. Bancroft pushed the door until it bumped the wall. "Come inside though. I've no interest in having this discussion on my stoop."

They trailed after her, John squeezing himself by the smaller woman as she shut the door and then hopping out of the way for her to lead them to her sitting room. She assumed her regal position in a wingback chair and left John and Anna to fit themselves together on the tight sofa. John stretched out his legs and dug into his bag for his notes before Ms. Bancroft held up a hand.

"I know what you do for a living, Mr. Bates, and I'd rather what I tell the two of you stay within this circle of trust."

"Of course." John dropped his hands to his lap, "I don't supposed you'd mind sharing the reason for that, would you?"

"It's very simple." She shrugged, "In all technicality what my husband did in nineteen-sixty-six was break me out of State custody. I was a ward of the State until they deemed me fit to reenter society and we stole their chance to decide that."

"Why not wait?" Anna offered and then flustered when Ms. Bancroft turned her defined jaw and matching cheekbones in her direction. "From what we read in your husband's journal Doctor Hughes would've released you."

"But eh board for the hospital was willing to let Father Green back onto the hospital grounds and neither of us were willing to chance what could happen should he and I be in the same vicinity again." Ms. Bancroft studied the two of them. "When you mentioned a journal, just now, I assume you meant the journal the John wrote from April of sixty-five to April of sixty-six."

"Yes." John opened his hands to her, "We've donated it to the historical society. I hope you don't mind."

"It was never mine." Ms. Bancroft shrugged, a smile stretching a familiar crag in her wrinkles. "John told me he left it as a gift for someone but he never said for whom."

"He left it with Father Green." John waited but Ms. Bancroft only continued starting at him. "I'm sorry, I thought-"

"I'd shiver in fear or shudder at the mention of his name?" Ms. Bancroft shook her head. "I moved on a long time ago."

"But something like that-"

"Can heal. It takes more time than a broken bone but it's still possible." Ms. Bancroft's smile twitched, her eyes glazing as she seemed to see something that they could not. "It helps when you've someone who loves you. Nothing heals a broken heart like love and nothing recovers a broken mind like time."

"Ms. Bancroft-" Anna scooted to the edge of the sofa. "What happened? After Doctor Bates got you out of hospital, what happened?"

Ms. Bancroft smiled. "I lived with his mother until she passed three years later."

"But, until then? How'd you avoid the people who searched for you for a year?" Anna pressed, her fingers interlacing to clutch on her lap.

"John's brother, Robbie, kept me out of sight when the village went into an uproar about the missing mental patient and John's mother was like my own mother. When John joined us, after he resigned his position to the board's disgrace, he took us to Scotland for awhile. We married at Gretna Green and then migrated back here to live with his mother while his brother returned to America."

"What did Robbie do in America?" John shuffled on the sofa, the space hemming him in more than he found comfortable.

"Met a lovely young woman and married her. He was buried there after he died in a car accident. His children spread over the continent and occasionally come to stay but mostly they're as American as their mother." Ms. Bancroft laughed to herself. "They always hated the way the electricity worked in the sockets in the house."

"And Gwen's children?"

"She had a son she lost in the Falklands but otherwise they're all doing well. Gwen lives with her eldest and her husband passed… last year I believe?" Ms. Bancroft waved a hand, "It's harder to remember when the weight of the years you've lived weigh down on your memories."

"Do you have memories of your own children?"

"I do." Ms. Bancroft stood, waving John and Anna down when both almost jumped to help her. "I'm old, not that infirm yet."

She shuffled to the mantle and pointed to the line of mismatched frames there with a series of children who looked almost nothing alike. "These are all of our children." John and Anna exchanged a look that Ms. Bancroft caught. "I know, they don't look anything like me do they?"

"If I didn't know better," Anna pointed to them, "I'd say none of them are your biological children."

"That's right." Ms. Bancroft returned to her seat, her sights still on the pictures. "Between the experimental medications of the age and… what happened to me, I couldn't have children. John and I tried, for years, and when we found I couldn't have children we decided to become foster parents."

"I can't see that being easy. Not in that day and age and…" John fumbled for words, flailing an open hand toward her.

"And especially given my condition as a ward of the state who no longer 'existed'?" She sighed, "We found a way around it with the help of some of John's friends in the medical community. They wanted good parents and they knew we were that. The records were… difficult but accurate and they just made sure no one paid much attention to them."

"So they're your foster children?"

"A few of them we adopted. Those whose parents left them to the system or passed away. Those we took as our own in name but all of them are our children."

John smiled, "Do they visit?"

"Grace lives just down the road and Roddy can't take a single day without calling me about something." Ms. Bancroft laughed, "They're all their own people and I've had all the joy and heartache any mother would have without needing the biological connection to them."

"And they're all yours?"

"Yes they are." Ms. Bancroft's eyes took on the far-away look again. "There was only one rule in our household, 'Deny me light, deny me spring, but never your laughter, for I would die' and we lived by that."

"Pablo Neruda?" Anna turned to John, who nodded.

"But, enough about me." Ms. Bancroft patted her hands against her knees. "What about you two?"

"What about us?" John frowned, "I'm sorry I don't understand the question."

"My story was buried for sixty years, Mr. Bates. You dug it up somewhere and I want to know where." Ms. Bancroft reached down and picked something up from the floor and handed over a copy of _Averi's Copy_. "And if you'd sign that while you explain, I'd be appreciative. I've got a grandchild who loves this."

John pulled out a pen, "It actually started with me wanting to commit suicide after a bad divorce."

"Oh dear." Ms. Bancroft got comfortable in her chair. "I think I'll need something stronger than tea after this story."

"Actually," Anna put a hand on John's arm. "It started with my sister, Averi."

"The Averi of the book?" Ms. Bancroft took the book back tapping on the illustration.

"Yes." Anna smiled, "When she was getting her treatment for cancer she met your sister, Violet Crawley."

Ms. Bancroft paused, her finger stroking over the shiny cover of the book. "Violet isn't my sister."

"But she considered herself your sister." Anna coughed, "She's the one who told Averi about you and we found the letters they exchanged with one another when they were doing their treatments."

"Whatever Violet Crawley told your sister, she didn't mean it."

"I think she did." John clacked his teeth together. "I think you're under the false assumption that your sister didn't care about you but she's spent her life looking for you. She's how we found you."

"My sister never attempted to contact me after I got out of hospital and she didn't respond to the letter I left for her."

"I know why." John put his hand up, clearing his throat. "Doctor Bates took the letter, with his journal, to Father Green and appealed to him as a human being to deliver it but he-"

"He proved he was the bastard we knew him to be and he burned it."

Ms. Bancroft blinked at Anna. "He burned it but not the journal?"

"He never read it but his pride wouldn't let him get rid of it." John shrugged, "But your sister's granddaughter is still alive and I believe you might be interested in meeting her."

"Her granddaughter?" Ms. Bancroft pursed her lips. "What happened to my sister?"

"She passed away after Averi did." Anna scrunched her face, "And her son, the Earl of Grantham, died a few years ago as well. Lady Mary Crawley is the last of your family other than her children and her niece."

"She lost her family too?" Ms. Bancroft made a small noise in her throat. "Did they go before she did?"

"No," Anna shook her head, "As far as I can tell they were with her when she passed. But it would mean a lot to them if you were in contact with them. They'd like to know you."

"Even after everything they know about me?"

John nodded, "Especially after that. Lady Mary had to approve what I submitted for the original article and we've been in contact since."

"And she's not the only one." Anna flexed her jaw, "The granddaughter of Father Green wants to meet you and apologize."

"She's got nothing to apologize for."

"She'd still like to meet you." Anna insisted, turning to John. "Especially since her grandfather just died."

Ms. Bancroft pulled the book in her hand up to her chest. "As much as I hated that man, I think the worst thing someone can suffer is to meet God unprepared."

"Ms. Bancroft," John put a hand out. "Would you like to meet some people and help them find peace?"

"The question, in this case Mr. Bates, is whether or not I'm obligated to help them."

"You're not but…" Anna chewed the inside of her cheek a second as she held Ms. Bancroft's gaze. "Wouldn't you want to meet your God prepared?"

"Prepared how, Ms. Smith?"

"I once heard the phrase, 'Heaven is full of those who are forgiven and who forgive' and I think there's a lot of healing to be had for everyone involved in this story." John took Anna's hand in his. "Could we find a way for everyone to get their happily ever afters here?"

Ms. Bancroft set her lips in a firm line. "What do you suggest?"

After a few calls John drove them to Alex Green's house and parked outside. He opened the door for Anna and they both helped Ms. Bancroft from her car. She took John's arm but patted Anna's.

"I'm old but I only need one walker for the moment. I left John's cane at home."

"You use his cane?" Anna smiled, "That's sweet."

"Keeps him close in practical way but my children are insisting I should get a walker instead. They say I need something more functional and helpful but I just use them like I'm using your boyfriend here."

"Happy to be used." John raised his knuckles to knock on the door.

Alex opened the door, Jane over her shoulder, and both of them froze a bit. John pointed to Ms. Bancroft and then to Alex. "Alex, this is Ms. Anna Bancroft Bates. Ms. Bancroft, this is Alex Green and her girlfriend Jane."

"Pleasure to meet you both." She extended a hand to them, shaking the stiffer hands. "I hope you'll allow me to speak to you a bit."

"Of course." Alex stepped out of the way and Jane led Ms. Bancroft inside. "Do you two-"

"No," Anna pulled John back, shaking her head. "This is about the three of you. We'll just wait."

Alex glanced inside before nodding. "Thank you, Mr. Bates, for helping facilitate this."

"It's about healing and I'm glad to help." John pointed to the car, "We'll wait there."

They walked back as the door closed and Anna weaved her arm around John's. He pulled her closer, hugging her for a moment before they settled next to the car, and then glanced around the neighborhood. When he finished the circle he settled back to wait.

John leaned on the car, Anna shivering a bit at his side as they watched Alex, Jane, and Ms. Bancroft talking in the front room of Alex's house. When Anna shivered again, John opened the door and they got into the back of the car. She smiled at him, cuddling closer as they adjusted to watch the scene from a distance.

"I hope they stay in contact." Anna nodded toward the window as John held her closer. "They all need one another I think."

"With all the kids on her mantle she doesn't need more." John dodged Anna's elbow. "But I agree, I think Alex could use someone to look up to who can help her try and understand her grandfather a bit better. And, maybe, in a bit of a way that's not as horrible as she thinks."

"She did know Father Green before he turned out to be a huge dick." Anna shook her head. "People are never what you expect."

"I don't know. I think you're what I expected in all the best ways." John kissed her hair, holding Anna closer. "But you're right. I hope it helps Alex resolve some of her frustrations."

"I was glad she didn't have to lay flowers on Ms. Bancroft's grave. At least not yet." Anna scraped the carpet of the car with her toe. "I've something to ask you and I don't know how you'll feel about it but I hope you'll let me get it all out before you say anything."

"Now that you've got me suitably nervous," John made a show of getting situated in the back of the car. "I'm ready."

"It's two things, actually." Anna took a deep breath, moving to face him. "First, I think we need to go on holiday."

"You do?"

"Yes." Anna nodded, "I've got some time for a sabbatical and I want to use it. And since you need to find inspiration for your next set of children's stories we should take holiday together."

"And go where?"

"To all those places Averi referenced in her book."

John sat up straighter, "You want to finish Averi's story."

"I do." Anna nodded, a bit too exuberantly. "I know it's probably going to be a pitfall in our relationship that Averi is the center of everything we've done and all that we are but-"

"She brought us together, Anna, I understand." John held her hands in his, stopping them yanking at one another. "What's the next thing on your list?"

"Second," Anna hauled in a deep breath. "I want to try for our own."

John's mouth opened, his brow furrowing slightly. "Forgive me being abominably slow but I'm not sure I'm following."

"When Ms. Bancroft told us she couldn't have children of her own I felt that. I knew that her children, fostered or adopted or otherwise, were still hers but that she wanted to have some of her own. And I realized…" Anna looked John in the eye. "I want some of my own too. If I can have them, even with the risks, I want them. And I want them with you."

John smiled, "When do you want to start?"

"How about…" Anna put her hands on his shoulders, "When we help everyone else get their happy endings here?"

"Sounds about right to me." John leaned forward, pausing with his lips just an inch from Anna's. "I've already got plans."

They waited in the car until the door opened. John got the car started, warming it as Anna helped Ms. Bancroft into the back seat and then took her seat by John. The drive to Lady Mary's house took a bit but as they pulled into the drive John tapped the brakes at the sound of Ms. Bancroft's gasp.

"Are you alright?"

"It's been so long since I've seen this house." Her hand quivered over her mouth. "It hasn't changed and it has at the same time."

"Do you want a moment?"

"No," She shook her head. "I think I need to see the rest of my family now."

When they parked the car, John and Anna switching roles, John smiled to see Ms. Baxter and Mr. Moseley at the doors. The couple held hands, but dropped them immediately on seeing the guests and Ms. Baxter could barely contain herself for glee. She all but rushed forward, taking one of Ms. Bancroft's wrinkled hands in hers, and beaming at her.

"It's an honor to finally meet you."

"Are you Lady Mary?"

"Heavens no," Ms. Baxter laughed. "I'm Phyllis Baxter, the curator for the historical society and I've been processing through your family's things for an exhibit. We have your husband's journal, your sister's letters, and your original medical file but… I'd like to fill in the rest of the gaps in your story if I could."

"Perhaps later." Ms. Bancroft smiled, "I need to meet my great-grandniece first."

They formed an odd procession into the building and John caught sight of Lady Mary pacing the foyer. Her previously aloof demeanor shifting slightly as her fingers flexed and drifted over one another. When they entered the room she stopped and resumed her appearance as the picture of decorum.

She turned, extending a hand toward Ms. Bancroft. "It's a pleasure."

"Yes it is." Ms. Bancroft took her hand. "Please, could you tell me about what happened to Violet?"

"I believe Ms. Baxter and I can certainly do that." Lady Mary gestured toward the library. "I'm sure you remember the library."

"It's probably changed as much as I have since the last time I set foot in there." Ms. Bancroft paused, "That's where it all began for me."

"Would you like another room?"

"No," She set her shoulders. "Today is the day the past leaves its shadow behind."

They left the room, Mr. Moseley vanishing to another part of the house, and left John and Anna on their own. A pairing that began with muted conversation but then lapsed to silence. Silence that extended to dozing and Anna's eventual break for the loo when waiting became too much for her.

John rubbed his eyes and looked up when Anna returned. "I don't mean to be rude but they've been an age and I'm beat."

"I know what you mean." Anna leaned against him, "Maybe they wouldn't mind if we found a corner and kipped for an hour while they finish talking."

"Or…" John tugged Anna's hand drawing her toward a door. "If I'm right…"

He tried it and a dim staircase lay before them. They hurried to close the door almost all the way before John dotted his lips all over Anna's neck. She pulled him closer and dragged his lips to hers so her moan could hide in the depths of his mouth.

Her back hit the wall and John ran his hands over her, the fabric of her clothes bunching and ruffling until he finally touched skin. Anna lifted a leg, dragging his hips to hers, and John grunted as he crowded Anna to the wall itself. The rising evidence of his arousal dug toward her stomach and she hummed appreciatively against his lips before running her hand down toward his trousers.

John bucked at her before breaking the kiss. It took only a second to assess their circumstances and shift them to the stairs. Positioning her one step above him, John bent over Anna to ring her neck with kisses and affection. Her hands dug at his neck and then guided him to continue caressing her body while her ass ground back to excite him further.

The snap of her jeans allowed John to tease his fingers inside her knickers and drive Anna absolutely mad. She rocked and shunted against him until her free hand grabbed one of John's to place it over her breast. He massaged and kneaded there, ignoring the impediments of the bra and shirt in his way, while pulling her jeans and knickers lower down her legs.

Within a few minutes Anna bent over, hands grabbing the stairs in front of her, and John had his fingers and tongue working to bring her over the edge. She buried her sounds in her arm, biting into the material but John still thrilled to hear each and every groan she emitted to echo over the stairwell until she finally broke around him. With no preamble he stood and freed him self to slide home.

They moved together, John kissing every bit of skin he could find and touch, until the only intelligible sounds were their half-muted cries and their strangled sobs. John's fingers played over her clit, trying to bring her to the edge again as the tingle in his spine rose to a breaking point. He finished in a flurry, stuttering as he struggled not to fall over and bring them both down in an unromantic tangle of limbs, and soon Anna cried out with an enduring echo before she muffled the rest in her shirt.

John helped her stand, cleaning them up as best he could and checking the coast was clear. They dashed to the loo, kissing over one another like horny teenagers just managing to escape their parents' notice, and finished their cleaning with a bit too much 'help' from the other. As they exited the bathroom, grins taking over their faces, they met the quartet of Lady Mary, Ms. Bancroft, Ms. Baxter, and Mr. Moseley.

"Well, can't say I didn't see it coming." Lady Mary shrugged, "But at least you cleaned up."


	22. Epilogue: From the Beginning of Eternity

John kneeled down, laying the flowers on the grave, and then covered the hand on his shoulder. "I wish we'd been there."

"We went to the funeral John. And her last moments were for her family."

He stood, pulling Anna closer, careful of her protruding abdomen. "She told us we were like her family."

"When someone says you're 'like' family they mean they'll send you individualized Christmas cards and invite you to large events, not hope you're at their deathbed when they breathe their last." Anna kissed his hand, putting her other to her back. "Besides, we saw her the day before and had a lovely chat."

"Yeah but-"

"You need to stop adopting old women as your girlfriends." Anna shoved at him, "Keep it up and I'll wonder if you married me for the right reasons."

"Some old women need adopting."

"Isobel Crawley Grey didn't anymore than Anna Bancroft did." Anna wrapped an arm around his back. "They just wanted you for your looks."

"They're good looks."

"And for your body."

John made a show of looking himself over. "It's not bad. I've got a nice ass."

"I know that." Anna giggled with them, leaning her head up to kiss him as he bent down. "And I thought it was wonderful, the way you cared for them, all teasing aside."

"Thank you." John helped her into the car, driving back to her house from the cemetery. "You do know I do it all to impress you, right?"

"I got the feeling." She smiled at him, covering his hand on the wheel with her own. "Though I don't know why you bother when all you need to do is just continue to be by my side while I look like a whale."

"You're much smaller than a whale, first off, which I thought you'd know after we saw some in Alaska. Secondly," John risked his hand from the wheel, hers still covering it, to rest on her protruding abdomen. "How could I be anything but gloriously and incandescently happy when you're glowing?"

"The fact you just used 'incandescent' and 'glowing' in the same sentence tells me you're full of shit, John Bates, and you read that in some book about how to compliment pregnant women." Anna grinned at him. "Isn't that right?"

"It might be. I've read a lot of books about pregnancy and one of them told me you've got a bit more blood pumping around in your body so…" John pulled to a stop in front of the house, opening his door and then coming around to get hers. "You're probably feeling a bit randy yourself."

"You're feeling randy?"

"I'm always feeling randy for you." John kissed her quickly, leading them inside. "If you're up for it then I'm game."

"Get me into a nice bath and you might get yourself lucky tonight." Anna managed the stairs on her own, turning over her shoulder to look at him. "If you need a wash too that is."

"I never say no to a bath."

John helped her into the bathroom, managing the things she couldn't quite reach, and then turned the water on in the tub. It filled slowly, the steam filling the room as John helped her slip into the water. He turned off the water and managed to get in behind her before he began soaping her down to wash over her.

Anna, completely relaxed in his arms, laid her head back against her shoulder. "We should enjoy these moments while we can."

"Because soon this one'll want all your love and attention?" John ran his hand over her abdomen and held there when something pushed back. "I don't know if I can take the jealousy."

"You'll manage." Anna put her hand over his and then gasped when John slipped lower to run over her. "What are you up to?"

"I did say I wanted you." John kissed her neck, "But that's nothing new."

"You're married to me." Anna shifted carefully until she faced him, John's fingers still moving over her. "How could you still want me?"

"Because you're amazing."

"I think it's because you're excessively proud you got a baby in me and you want to show off that you know you're not firing blanks." Anna grinned at him, her hands going around his neck to hold there as she rocked slowly over his gentle fingers. "Think about it, it's just inconsequential at this point."

"It's still fun."

"That's true." Anna set a series of kisses to his face and then gasped when John ducked out of her reach to lay his lips over her breasts. "You're too good at this."

"It's how I knocked you up." John grinned, teasing around her nipple as Anna's fingers dug into his shoulders. "It's just too much fun for me not to do it."

"If I'd known you were this good when I first met you," Anna paused, losing her words when John sent her over the end.

"You were saying?" John tried to smirk at her but Anna sank down and he gritted his teeth.

"Turnabout is fair play." She taunted, bobbing up and down as John thrust into her. "And if I'd known you could do this at the beginning then I wouldn't have waited."

"We didn't wait that long." John managed, gasped against Anna's shoulder, holding tight to her hips as he worked deeper at an angle that gave her room to move.

"It was already too long." Anna pulled his lips to hers and keened against him when John teased her breasts with one hand and the other returned to her sensitive and swollen nerves. "Don't make me wait."

"Never." They finished, the water settling around them as Anna settled on him. John ran his hands over her back holding her as close as he could with their baby between them. "I've got an idea for a name."

"What?" Anna raised herself up to see him.

"Averi."

"What if it's a boy?"

"We spell it with a 'y'." John smiled and then grew serious. "I don't want her forgotten and I think we need someone to remind us."

"It feels a bit like pushing our luck." Anna bit her lip and John soothed her with his hands over her arms. "I mean…"

"I know." John nodded, helping them out of the tub and wrapping her in a bathrobe before putting a towel around himself. "But I think we should take the risk."

"And if she has what Averi had?"

"Then we'll love her all the more." John held Anna close, "She'll be fine. She's got you working every day to make it better and she's got me."

"And if we don't get her for very long?"

"Then we'll have each other." John looked Anna in the eyes. "You'll always have me Anna."

"I know." She hugged him as closely as she could. "And I think Averi's a good name."

"Even for a boy?"

"Even for a boy." Anna kissed him again, "Now please take me to bed Mr. Bates because your child's kicking my ribs and it's a bit painful."

"Yes ma'am." John lifted her off the floor, carrying her to the bed and helping her into her pajamas.

"You'll get tired of dressing me."

"Never." John got her into bed. "It's a pleasure to serve the woman I love."

"And you'll always love me."

"However, wherever, whenever." John brushed her hair back from her forehead. "Sleep now and I'll be here when you need me."

"I always need you."

"And I'll always be here."

"Forever?"

"From the beginning of eternity to the end of time itself."


End file.
